


The Tie That Binds

by ishtarelisheba



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: BDSM, D/s Relationships, F/M, appropriate warnings for the contents of each chapter at the head of each chapter, please read them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-05 19:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 88,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12196191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishtarelisheba/pseuds/ishtarelisheba
Summary: Belle French had been looking forward to moving. A small town like Storybrooke promised some peace and quiet that the city just couldn't match. And to be honest, the idea of a smaller kink community than she'd been involved with in Boston appealed, as well. After a string of spectacularly failed relationships, she was ready to find someone who hit the right spot.Ian Gold, a bit jaded, a bit broken and burned by past partners, never saw her coming.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizandletdie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizandletdie/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Short descriptions of flogging and gang bang in a BDSM play party setting. Lengthy scenes of rope bondage and spanking.

Belle reached under the back of her coat once she was out of the car, tugging at the back of her panties to bring them back down. They were adorable and entirely flattering to her butt and hips, but they did awful things when she sat. Emrys waited for her at the head of the walk. It was lit with cheerful little solar lanterns all the way from the drive and up the steps, guiding the guests right in.

She didn’t know Jefferson well, but it was clear that he was an attentive host. She had to give him that. He met them at the door, taking their coats and inviting them to have a walk around the party. Not yet knowing anyone save Emrys, Belle decided to stick with him for the time being.

The party encompassed the full ground floor of the house. Rooms had been set aside for this activity or that. The kitchen was full of food and drinks, Jefferson informed them, and anything there was fair game as far as he was concerned.

“Have to keep up energy and stay hydrated, right?” he said, giving them a wink over his shoulder before disappearing with their coats. 

Most of the doors off the entryway were wide open, and Belle found herself awash in appetite-whetting sounds as she and Emrys began looking into what kind of fun was on offer for the evening. The first doorway that she felt compelled to linger in led into an engaging flogging scene. 

A slender and very naked young man had been bound, standing and bent at the waist, his ankles and wrists held wide by a pair of spreader bars. There was a woman with long blonde hair, a bit older, standing behind him. She held a rather nice flogger, its braided tails unraveled at the ends. After giving it a showy figure-eight swing in the empty space next to her, she took it in an arc in front and struck the man’s bare ass. He jumped and groaned, and Belle was pretty sure she heard a laugh come from him. The woman moved forward, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling his head back so that he looked up at her.

“Am I not whipping you hard enough?” she asked in response to the smile on his face. “Are you going to make me take you to your knees?”

The woman leaned down closer, and they seemed to have a quieter exchange before she released his hair and returned to her position behind him. Belle stepped back into the hallway. There were plenty of people giving audience to the flogging, and it wasn’t quite what she craved this evening, anyway. She gave Emrys a nudge with her elbow and they continued on. They passed a room filled with inflated balloons and people making an impressive variety of use with them, and another in which a restrained woman was having her feet mercilessly tickled. Belle couldn’t help smiling at the laughter, but she went on. 

A flash of red hair in the next room caught her eye. People not a part of the scene were barred from entrance by a bright red rope criss-crossing the open doorway, but it _was_ open, and she stopped to watch. There was a redhead in a bright purple bustier and very little else, and she appeared to be having the time of her life. She knelt at the center of a fairly impressive group of men.

One of the men - tall and broad shouldered, with stark black hair and a leash wrapped short around his hand connected to the redhead’s collar - was enjoying a handjob. She did the same for another of the men with her other hand. The redhead had just enough slack in the leash to bob her head back and forth as she sucked a third man’s cock. The rest seemed, for the most part, to be waiting their turn and keeping themselves ready for it. One stepped forward, rubbing the head of his cock against her cheek. He reached into her bustier, pushing a cup down so that he could squeeze her breast in his hand.

Belle’s breath quickened, and she felt herself growing wet. She hoped that her mostly decorative panties were up to the task, or she’d be advertising just how turned on she was from no more than a quick look around.

The redhead closed her eyes, and as the man she’d been blowing moved back, she opened her mouth to show him his come. When she closed her mouth, Belle instinctively closed her own and swallowed. The woman she watched opened her mouth again to show it now empty.

Belle heard someone make a soft, needy sound. It took her a moment to realize it was her.

“Come on, sweetie, before I have to keep you from crawling under the rope,” Emrys said, and she didn’t know when she’d started leaning against him, but he dragged her off toward the opposite side of the entryway.

The very next room they looked in on held at least a dozen people, some of them kissing and touching, some having sex in pairs, some in greater numbers. The atmosphere of the room was filled with laughter and groans and various sex noises. A handwritten sign had been taped next to the door: ‘Couples Only!’ It was a swingers room, Belle understood. 

She and Emrys walked past a bedroom full of people simply masturbating together. _Whatever gets your motor running,_ Belle thought. It wasn’t her cup of tea, though. 

The third room down seemed pretty peaceful. She heard music drifting out and there was no great commotion of any sort. _That_ was what she needed. To begin with, at least. Being as new as she was in town, she wanted to get a feel for the local community, and a calmer scene was ideal.

It looked to be the living room, judging by the furniture that had been spread out to make some central space. The lights were dimmed a bit more than they’d been in any of the other rooms she had poked her head into. Everyone she could see from the side of the doorway she looked in from seemed to be paying rapt attention to the same thing. When she stepped inside, she saw why.

A heavy duty hook had been installed in one of the ceiling beams, and a large metal ring connected to it via a rope and some fancy knotwork. A pretty Asian woman wearing black leather pants and a tooled black and red leather waistcoat over a red shirt was in the process of binding another woman with sleek red rope. Belle smiled, beginning to look around for an open place to sit. She silently blessed Jefferson for having someone put on a shibari display. 

The bound woman - a fair brunette wearing nothing but bright red lipstick - was already well off the floor. She’d been suspended on her side, arms bound snugly behind her back, wrapped above and below her breasts and around her hips with rope to support most of her weight. The leg positioned on top had been wrapped with decorative loops about the thigh to support it, and her other ankle was wrapped similarly, supported and the rope pulled so that her leg bent a bit behind her. When the shibari artist finished tying off and tucking away the last piece of rope, she gave the bound brunette a gentle spin and turned to rifle through a small duffle bag that sat on a dining chair behind her. Belle took the chance to find a seat.

Most of the furniture was occupied, and there were a handful of people sitting on the floor. She wasn’t surprised. A shibari display could draw a crowd. A young woman came in, brushing past on her way to the far side of the room, and she leaned to whisper to a man occupying a chair against the wall. Both now smiling, she took his hand, leading him out.

Belle bumped Emrys’ arm, gesturing to the open seat and communicating her intentions on grabbing it.

“You’ll be okay?” he asked.

“I’ll be great,” she assured him. “Just, you know, stay where you can see me?”

Emrys nodded and she tried to hurry over without looking like she hurried, dropping into the chair just as the shibari artist turned back around with a small red candle and a lighter. The artist lit the candle and waited a moment before tipping a pool of melted wax onto her subject’s hip. The bound woman turned her head, watching as best she could as the candle’s base was held in the wax until it had solidified enough to anchor there.

“Oh! Human chandelier!” Belle exclaimed quietly, patting her hands on her bare thighs as she suddenly understood why the lights had been dimmed. She turned to the man who sat next to her, to share her light bulb. “How cool, huh?”

The man’s gaze moved from the display to her, and he looked at her as though he had no idea when she’d taken the seat there. “Very interesting,” he said.

His eyes lingered on her, and she resisted the urge to squirm. They were pools of black in the low light. He was very nicely dressed, wearing a tailored three piece suit and a button down that she thought must be quite a pretty purple. His hair was longer than was probably fashionable, the ends curling against his shirt collar, but it flattered him. Despite the way he sat back in his chair with one leg crossed over the other, his posture managed to express some great measure of composure and self control. He had an accent of some sort, but she couldn’t figure it out from only the two word response he’d given her.

Belle glanced over to Emrys where he had found a spot at the far end of a sofa within sight of both her and the display. Knowing where he was made her feel safer. It wasn’t as though she thought anyone might do something she didn’t want right there, but strangers still gave her a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. She returned her attention to the man next to her, who had gone back to watching the suspended woman acquire more candles.

“Belle,” she said, leaning toward him just the slightest bit.

His eyes flicked to her again. There was something around them. Some bewilderment, maybe. Maybe something sad. It made her want to go on talking to him all the more.

He shook his head a little. “Pardon?”

“My name. Belle.” She held her hand out to him with the express purpose of getting it into his. “Belle French.”

There was a hesitation, but he took her hand and held it firmly. “Ian Gold.”

~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~

He was fully aware that he would never have a romantic relationship again. For a while he’d allowed himself the delusion that he might be of some service, provide the occasional one-off bit of domination that some women enjoyed at these parties. Even that didn’t turn out a reasonable hope. By the time he began attending alone, it turned out that he was no longer precisely the approachable sort.

Ian had accepted fewer and fewer invitations over the years. It didn’t stop them from coming in, however, and sometimes he couldn’t help himself. There was a particular atmosphere there that he’d grown to crave, even if he didn’t participate. Harmless as he’d proven himself, he was allowed to sit back and enjoy the entertainment on the rare occasion that he dragged himself out to Jefferson’s house on the hill. He was only here tonight because of Jefferson’s haranguing. 

“You know you’ll enjoy yourself,” the other man had told him on perhaps the tenth call, when Ian at last picked up. “I’ve arranged something _really_ nice for this weekend. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

He’d informed Jefferson that, no, he wouldn’t be sorry because he wouldn’t be accepting the invitation, and hung up before he received a response. The next call he got was from Mallory Drake, and he’d known before answering that he was doomed to give in. They rarely double-teamed him, but when they did, he didn’t have much choice.

When he arrived at the party, he had taken an armchair seat with a good view of the shibari display that hadn’t yet begun, and he’d stayed there. Jefferson and Mal were satisfied that he’d come around and at least he had an evening out of the house. It wasn’t exactly a win, but it was close enough. He had been somewhere in the vicinity of content when a young woman replaced the man who’d been sitting next to him, and his evening had ticked up a level from ‘not unpleasant.’

The shibari was admittedly intriguing. The rope, the candles, the women putting it on. It was a lovely display. His sudden company, who chatted despite his only occasional contributions, was even lovelier. He had almost forgotten what it was like to talk with a woman who _wanted_ to talk to him.

“I almost didn’t come,” she said, shrugging her naked shoulders and smiling over at him. “I didn’t have anything handy to wear, I’d have had to hunt through _all_ the boxes because I’m a notorious procrastinator when it comes to unpacking. But Emrys told me to go to this little boutique in town, and the woman who owns it turned out to be a miracle worker. It’s a good thing I’m an easy fit.”

Belle had to almost physically restrain herself from making a dirty pun out of her own phrasing. Her less than discreet direction toward the way she was dressed had precisely the effect that she hoped. She could practically feel the way his gaze ran down her body. Belle crossed her legs in his direction, grinning to herself when they drew his eye. He lingered at her shoes, his head tilting a little, and she slowly twisted her foot.

“Yes, it… fits you very well,” he told her, indulging in a split second’s fantasy regarding licking his way from her ankle to the inside of her thigh. He had to bite his tongue to keep from wetting his lips. “An excellent choice for the occasion.”

The outfit she wore was far from out of place at the party, but it was unique enough to be memorable. He knew that it would be seared into _his_ memory, at least. Her corset, constructed of subtle teal and pink brocade, was edged at the top with a soft ruffle. It was cinched in just enough that her small breasts visibly rose and fell with each breath. Below it were a pair of delightfully ruffled satin panties matching the teal in the brocade. Garters stretched down from beneath the bottom of her corset to catch onto the top edge of a pair of white stockings, and she wore ridiculously, teeteringly tall platform stilettos. The shoes peeped at the toe, and each of her ankles was encircled by a pair of thin straps with golden buckles. Everything about her outfit seemed made to entice its slow removal. The entire effect appealed to him in a way he found unexpected. 

In all of those ruffles, she greatly resembled some iced little confection. He wanted to devour her.

Her smile brightened and she shifted in her chair, replying with a sweet, “Thank you.”

“You mentioned unpacking,” he pointed out. “You’ve just moved into town?”

“Mm-hmm. Couple of weeks ago. And I know, not having unpacked even my clothes? I’m terrible.” She wrinkled her nose, pinching her lower lip between her teeth for a moment.

Ian wondered, did she know what she was doing?

She looked back to the display. The bound woman had a half dozen candles placed along her body. Two on her hip, one in the dip of her waist, one on her ribcage and another on her shoulder, and one on the inside of the thigh of her leg that was bound at the ankle. The candles were now dripping wax down their sides, and every once in a while the woman shuddered, making the candle flames dance.

Belle bit back on her frustration. Ian played it so close to the chest that she couldn’t tell much from his responses to her flirtation. There were, surely, easier men to get to know here. He hadn’t discouraged her, though, and she did like a challenge. She resisted backing down. Before she could come up with something else to get him talking again, he spoke on his own.

“How do you know Jefferson?” he asked, bringing her focus back to him.

“I don’t, really. Emrys does,” Belle explained. “He got the invitation.”

Ian looked around. He hadn’t seen her come in, and he hadn’t paid attention as the room filled with people interested in the display, so he had no idea who might have just arrived. “And Emrys is who?”

She pointed out the young black man who was keeping a fairly close eye on them from across the room. “That’s him in the black jeans and harness.”

He did his best to hide any disappointment that might come through in his expression. Emrys was muscular and rather beautiful. “Ah. Your boyfriend, then.”

“What? No. I mean, he’s great, but no.” She smiled up at Ian again. “He’s taken, mostly. He was kind enough to accompany me to a party where I don’t know anyone else, though.”

“So you’re…?”

“As single as a girl can get.”

With the candlelight brightening the room a bit, she discovered that his eyes were warm and brown. She could see the ghosts of relaxed crinkles in their outer corners. They made her want to see him smile. She wasn’t given to throwing herself at people, but a little toss couldn’t hurt. And it _was_ a play party, after all. They were there to play.

The shibari artist dropped her lighter back into her bag after placing a final candle on the bound woman’s knee and giving her a small nudge to show all of the work off with a slow spin. A man with bleached hair left the sofa arm he’d been using as a seat, and the petite blonde he was sitting next to leaned up to give his ass a solid slap before he could get away. He waited until she rose to go with him and they left the living room with her hand resting in the middle of his back.

“Paddle or strap?” she heard the woman ask as the couple turned left to presumably find a room.

Belle leaned over her own chair arm and onto Ian’s. “How do you feel about spanking?” she asked, giving up on subtler tactics.

She was certain that she saw a twitch at the corner of his mouth, but he gave nothing more away. His eyes shifted from the living chandelier, back to her face. “It depends whether we’re discussing giving or receiving.”

“Oh, giving,” she clarified cheerfully.

Ian gave her a nod. “Well then, I feel quite warmly about it.”

“And how would you feel about spanking someone tonight?” Belle leaned in just a hair farther. 

“I believe I would be agreeable,” he said, and she definitely saw a twinkle in his eye this time before he went on. “Did you have someone in mind? 

“Well, my friend Emrys-” She shot him a sarcastic look, and she was delighted when his smile peeked through a bit more. “That would be _me_. I have me in mind.”

“Even more agreeable.” Ian considered her with marginally more thought than lust this time. She seemed young, though he had no doubt that Jefferson vetted her as legal age just as he did the rest of his party’s attendees. He lowered his voice a bit. “Do you know what you’re asking?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” she said with a mischievous smile.

His mouth went dry. “I don’t give a spat on the rump and call it a spanking.”

Belle felt a fluttering of anticipation in her stomach in response to his tone. “Good.”

He only looked at her, and for just a moment, she thought he might change his mind. If he’d told her to beg, she would have.

Then he uncrossed his legs and made a clear offering of his lap. Resisting the urge to simply throw herself across him, she did the more polite thing and stood up. From the corner of her eye, she saw Emrys scoot to the edge of the sofa, watching them. She looked back at him and gave him a little wave to show him that she was doing just fine.

It had taken Ian longer than he would admit to catch the small patches of bare skin at her hip. Her panties tied closed at the sides. That fact had him itching to tug the small bows open. He extended his hand to help her and she took it, resting her free hand on the far arm of his chair as she lowered herself to lie on her stomach across his knees. She placed herself at a slight angle so that she could rest her cheek on the chair arm.

It had been _years_ since he’d had a girl over his lap like this. He took the time to appreciate it.

Ian ran his hand down the lacings of her corset and over her ruffled panties, enjoying the way the satin slipped through his fingers. The panties were snug where the leg openings met her skin, and he stroked his along the line they made

“These are a bit too much padding,” he said, clearing his throat softly and giving her bottom a couple of pats.

Belle turned her head to cast a daring look over her shoulder at him. “You’ll just have to take them down, then. I want a proper spanking.” she told him. Reaching back with one hand, she pulled open the pair of ties at her right hip. “Can you, um…?”

He got his wish in untying the side of her panties that faced him. Folding the ruffled fabric panel down the back of her thighs, he exposed her far from disappointing ass and ran his open hand over the swell of it. It was so nicely shaped, round and plump, and he wanted to see his handprints all over it.

Ian rested his left forearm across her back, holding her firmly. Drawing his right hand back a bit, he gave her a light spank to begin, and he savored the bit of jiggle it caused. He heard Belle hum a little, and her feet wiggled anxiously behind her. The next slap he gave the same cheek was a bit harder. He gave the same pair of slaps to the other cheek before returning to the first and giving her a sharp, upward glancing spank. The wriggle and gasp she made in response were closer to satisfying. He wanted _more_ out of her, though.

It was an easy spanking, at first, and Belle was prepared to be polite in thanking him afterward. She quickly discovered that the easiness of it was his warm up. The spanking grew steadily in intensity until she felt every strike snap right through her from head to toes. She pressed her face to the chair arm, trying to will herself still. It was easy to not squirm in the moments he took to gently pet her ass between rounds of slaps. He’d rub right over the hot, tender skin, sending delicious jolts of electricity down her thighs and up into the small of her back before spanking her again. 

Her face burned and her eyes stung, and she pushed the hand not holding onto the chair beneath the seat cushion to keep it from darting back. She so wanted to be good and take the spanking she’d asked for. Toward the end, he didn’t let up. She couldn’t count how many strikes he gave her in a row, but her ass positively _seared_ with them. Belle held on for as long as she could before crying out. She thought he went on for maybe a half dozen more in all before they were done.

She was out of breath, and the throbbing in her sore bottom had blood rushing into other areas. He rubbed slowly over the entire area he’d spanked, and she thought she felt the waves of heat he caused moving along every nerve ending in her body. Belle only wished that she knew him well enough to get his hand between her legs, too.

Ian moved his left hand to rest between her bare shoulder blades as he petted her. He could feel the fevered warmth radiating from her skin with each stroke he made over her very red ass, and with each she gave him a soft whimper. Her sounds gradually settled into little moans that were more pleased than plaintive. 

She’d taken her spanking impressively well. His hand stung a bit, and it was clear that her bottom had fared far worse. He continued petting her, allowing her to lie across his lap for as long as she liked. 

After a few minutes, she lifted her head to look back at him again. He could see a bit of daze in her face as she asked quietly, “Can you help me?” and gestured vaguely toward her lower half.

Ian brought the back of her panties up again and she made a small hissing sound when the fabric touched her skin. He tied the pair of ribbons on the hip nearer him first, then encouraged her to tilt enough that he could tie up the other side, as well. When her ruffles were all back in place, he noticed the obvious wet spot in the satin where it had rested between her legs while she received her spanking. He stared at the darkened area in the crotch of her panties for a moment, caught between a bit of pride that he’d brought such a response from her and the realization that she would be leaving his lap soon, at which point his own response would be evident. 

“I need, uh…” Belle shifted, and he helped her to balance as she moved off him, leaning forward to brace her arm while she got her feet under her again. She didn’t seem the steadiest, and as interesting as he found her shoes, they likely weren’t making anything easier.

“All right there, darling?” he asked, keeping hold of her arm as she wobbled.

“I’m okay. I’m good,” Belle murmured. It had been a while between truly excellent spankings, and she felt a tad drunk. His endearment only made the fuzzy feeling in her head worse.

Emrys hopped up from the sofa and hurried over to make sure she stayed upright. “Belle?”

“I’m okay,” she told him, too. It took her a second to move her attention to him and away from Ian. “Can you, um- washroom?”

The shibari artist was plucking and extinguishing candles from her subject as her friend guided her off in search of a bathroom. She reached down, tugging at and readjusting the back of her panties, and Ian grinned to himself at the wiggle she made in the process. The living room had lost quite a few of its occupants. Shifting in his chair and carefully crossing his legs once more, he found himself thankful for that as well as the low light.

Belle leaned on the cold porcelain sink and patted her face with cool water until she didn’t feel like her head might go spinning off. The color in her cheeks was high when she looked in the mirror to dry and make sure that her eye makeup hadn’t tried to migrate anywhere it wasn’t supposed to. After a few deep breaths, she felt her words beginning to come back. 

When she rejoined Emrys out in the hallway, he put a bottle of icy cold water in her hand, apparently having retrieved it while she was zoned out in the bathroom.

“Thanks,” she said, twisting off the cap and taking a long pull from it. 

“You sure you’re all right?” he asked, going along when she headed back toward the living room.

“I’m _great_ ,” she told him, smiling brightly and finding some thorough enjoyment in the way her butt stung again with each step. “I haven’t felt this good in months.”

The shibari artist had her subject free of candles and half untied when she went back in. The brunette had one foot on the floor and splotches of wax still clinging to her, and she looked as happy as Belle felt.

“Hey,” she said as she approached Ian with the intention of reclaiming her seat. 

He watched as she considered the chair. “Are you feeling better?”

“In all kinds of ways.” Belle sat gingerly, propping herself more on one hip than right on her sore bottom. She grinned over at him when she’d gotten settled. “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve had a treat like that in… maybe ever.”

Ian looked at her as though she’d given him a gift. “You’re very welcome, Belle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Belle's party outfit](https://ishtarelisheba.dreamwidth.org/file/451.jpg)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Discussion of kinks, consensual name calling.
> 
> [Prompts - _standbyyourmantis said: The Tie That Binds: First date jitters +_ (the rest of this prompt is in chapter three)]
> 
> _(This chapter turned out hella long, so I’ve split it into two. Chapter Three will be posted tomorrow night at the usual time.)_

With a great big cup of tea and her tattered security blanket copy of _North and South,_ Belle curled up in the corner of the sofa. She took a few minutes to make herself comfortable and gather some bravery before picking her phone up from the coffee table.

The rest of the play party had been lovely. Or the part she’d spent with Ian had been, at least. She had gotten to spend maybe another half hour with him before his phone vibrated from his jacket pocket. He’d given it a perturbed look that changed quickly to worry, apologized for his sudden exit, and excused himself. She had been excited about the party, so it was ridiculous for her to feel like it lost some of its shine when Ian left. Except that it did. 

Belle and Emrys had walked around more and talked to some of the other people there after Ian was gone. While in the kitchen looking for a place to throw away her empty water bottle, she stumbled across the redhead whose gang bang she’d seen a few moments of. The redhead’s name was Ariel, as it turned out, and though her collar was still in place, she’d showered and changed into purple sweats. Ariel had looked exhausted but very happy, and Belle envied her just a little. 

She had talked with Jefferson a bit, and he’d asked how she was enjoying the party before someone came in to tell him that he was needed to have a talk with some guy who was out of line. She’d chatted with a couple more men - both of whom were perfectly nice. One asked politely whether she would like to join he and his wife in one of the guest rooms, and he had accepted it when she turned him down. The other invited her to participate in a birching scene and was equally as gracious when she declined. 

It might have been silly, considering the amount of time she spent with him, but she had never felt a pull toward anyone to the degree she’d felt toward Ian. She had been distracted during the drive home with Emrys. He’d had to say everything twice to get it to sink in, and he noticed the difference well enough to insist on walking her right to her apartment door instead of just waiting until he saw the light in her living room window.

Her original plan had been to have fun at the party and come home for a nice, long bath and a pint of ice cream before bed to make a perfect evening of it. As it turned out, her post-party plans ended up including a rummage through her moving boxes for her favorite vibrator and putting it to some thorough use. Twice. Belle had sprawled herself on the edge of the sofa so that the still tender crease under her backside pressed against it to have herself a good reliving of that spanking and three orgasms. 

Ian’s hands were _really_ nice, she’d noticed. They were big, with long fingers and manicured nails, and they were ideal fantasy material. She remembered how firm his grip on her had been when he held her across his lap, how safe she’d felt even through entertaining thoughts about how she might not be able to get away if she wanted to. Squirming against the sofa’s edge, she had remembered how solid his strikes were, how they had stung and how her ass had felt hotter and hotter with each one. She let her imagination take her to a place where he hadn’t stopped, where his hand had cupped between her legs and those long fingers of his had pushed inside her, where he had made her come and spanked her again afterward until she cried.

Yeah, it had been _way_ too long since she’d had a proper spanking.

Belle puffed her cheeks out with a slow breath and turned her phone over in her hands. She’d called Emrys earlier in the day to get Jefferson’s number. Her friend didn’t know Ian, but apparently Jefferson knew him pretty well. She tapped in his number before she could think too much longer about it and brought the phone to her ear. He picked up on the third ring, just as her courage verged on running out.

“Hello?” he said, and it sounded as if there was some commotion in the background.

She gave him her practiced introduction. “Jefferson? It’s Belle French. I was at the party last night?”

“Oh, yeah, hi! You came along with Emrys, right?”

“That’s me.” Belle ran her thumb along the pages of her book in her lap. “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay, hang on.” There was the sound of a chair moving and then of a door closing, and the other noise behind him disappeared. “Go ahead. What is it you need?”

She took another deep breath. “You know Ian Gold, right?”

“Yeah, I know him. Known him pretty much all my life. Why?”

“Can you tell me a little about him? A little that’ll tell me what kind of person he is?”

There was a long second of silence before Jefferson spoke again. “You mind if I ask why?”

“I was thinking of, um-” Belle lifted her hand, running it over her face. “Of talking to him. Seeing if he’d be… interested. In something. In me.”

 _“Oh,”_ he said, his tone brighter. “Yeah? You met him?”

“I did. Sort of briefly, and he had to leave before I got any contact info, but I thought we hit it off a little bit.” And now she hoped that she wasn’t imagining it. She clapped her hand over her eyes. “I figured you would be able to tell me more about him and maybe help me get in contact.”

Jefferson made a thoughtful sound. “Well, he’s a great guy, but like I said, I’ve known him for a _long_ time. He’s not that easy to get to know these days.”

“These days?”

“Some things happened a while back that aren’t really my tale to tell.”

Belle nibbled at her lower lip, curiosity pushing her nervousness back a bit. “What can you tell me?”

“There were a couple of relationships in a row there that didn’t end so well,” he said. “To understate it. Ian went through some hell. He hasn’t been active for quite a while.”

“He attends parties, though?”

“As far as I know, only mine and another friend’s. It takes some doing to drag him out of the house, too.”

Belle made a thoughtful sound of her own. The amount of reserve that Ian seemed to hold onto made more sense now.

“But you liked him, huh?” Jefferson asked, and she could practically see the same broad grin on his face as he’d given when he met them at the door.

She caught herself swaying side to side on the the sofa and stopped, but her smile stuck. “I really did.” 

“Mind if I ask what made such an impression?”

“...His hand?” she said, the remark out of her mouth before she knew it.

There was a short burst of a laugh from Jefferson’s end of the line. “I _heard_ he spanked somebody! That was you?”

“Yeah,” Belle told him, her smile growing a little broader. “That was me.”

“Damn. I’ve been wishing I’d seen it. Now I’m even more disappointed.”

“Well, with any luck…”

He chuckled. “Oh, I hope so. Okay, give me a couple hours? I’m busy for a while here, but let me finish up and I’ll give Ian a call.”

“Thank you!” She dropped her head back against the sofa cushion and tension she didn’t realize had gathered in her shoulders suddenly released. “I owe you.”

Jefferson gave a fond little hum in response. “Hey, you get Ian to venture out on a date and we’ll call it even.”

They hung up and Belle set about waiting, reading the same paragraph over and over again until she finally had to move from the sofa to make herself something for dinner. Not in the mood to fiddle with much, she stuck a frozen dinner in the oven and leaned on the counter to wait for it. Her eyes strayed to her phone next to her every couple of minutes. It didn’t seem possible that less than an hour had passed, but there she was.

When her dinner was done, she took the little tray back to the sofa with her and turned the TV on to keep her company while she ate. Jefferson would call back in a while, she told herself. There was no reason to be so antsy over it. He’d call and give her Ian’s number or something, and then she could work herself up to calling _him._

Belle nearly swallowed a bite of chicken whole when her phone rang. She chewed as fast as she could and picked up. “Hey!”

“Belle?”

It wasn’t Jefferson. It was _Ian._ Her stomach was suddenly unsure whether it was happy with the bit of dinner she’d put there. Where the hell had the confidence she felt the night before when she was trying to get herself into his lap gone?

“Yeah, it’s- I’m here. Hi!” She dropped her fork onto the plastic tray and placed her face in her hand. How absolutely _smooth._

“It’s Ian Gold.”

“I know,” she said, trying to make herself sound somewhat surer. “I recognize your voice.”

There was a quiet draw of breath before he went on. “I spoke with Jefferson.”

“Oh! Oh, good.” Belle picked up her fork again and began stirring in the tray section filled with mixed veggies just to have something to do with her hands. Inside, she felt like the one occasion on which she’d allowed a friend in primary school to talk to a boy she had a crush on for her. The vaguely sick, hopeful feeling was the same.

Ian made a soft coughing sound, but it took another moment before he broke the silence again. “How would you feel about going out to eat? Somewhere nice.”

 _“I’d_ feel great about it!” she blurted, her fork flicking a pea and a piece of carrot out of her tray and off the coffee table. “I mean, that sounds wonderful.”

“What do you like?” he asked, and before she could answer, he continued with an obvious tease. “Food-wise. We can talk about other things you might enjoy over dinner.”

Belle grinned so hard that her cheeks hurt. “Italian, Chinese, Mexican, um… You know, honestly, there’s not much I don’t like. You choose.”

~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~

Ian had already changed his shirt twice. The pink one looked nice enough, but it felt a bit too light for the occasion. The black button-down now discarded on the bed made him look more imposing than he intended. After another five minutes in front of his closet, he pulled down a nice, crisp, sapphire blue shirt, unable to remember the last time he’d worn it. 

As he was deciding between ties, it occurred to him that he was being absurd. How likely was it that Belle would care at all what color he wore? Probably about as likely as her wanting to see him again after tonight. Which was to say, not very.

He had enjoyed the party more than he’d been able to enjoy anything in a very long time, and he knew that it all came down to Belle’s company. She was charming and sweet, and he had a difficult time believing that she’d asked him to touch her, much less spank her. If he concentrated, though, he could still feel the softness of her skin and the sting in his palm again. 

It had never crossed his mind that he might get to see more of her after that little encounter. Then he’d gotten a call that turned his day on its head. According to Jefferson, she wanted to see him again. She liked him. He wasn’t sure how _that_ had happened, but Jefferson had given him some strong and eventually expletive-laced encouragement to call her.

“Come on, Ian, one date,” Jefferson had said after one hesitation too many out of him. “One fucking date is not going to kill you.”

It was only the assurance that Belle was waiting for his call in a rather immediate way that kept Ian from putting it off. He’d screwed his courage to some manner of sticking place and dialed the number that Jefferson gave him. Their conversation had been painless, not nearly as tense as he had anticipated. He was left with the desire to talk with Belle for much longer, but they’d ended the call with a date planned for the following Friday night and arrangements for him to pick her up outside her apartment building. 

Ian grabbed a black tie with a subtle midnight paisley and he looked into the mirror backing his closet door to get the knot centered. He refused to allow his nerves to make him late picking her up. Belle was expecting a nice evening out, and he _would_ fulfill her expectations.

Her apartment was less than a five minute drive from his house, which didn’t give him a great deal of time to further prepare. That was probably a good thing. It meant he didn’t have time to dwell on too many thoughts, either. As they’d arranged, he sent her a quick text to let her know that he was downstairs. He got out of his car and waited for her at the passenger door.

Belle came hurrying out the front door and down the steps, and Ian found himself bowled over. She was a ray of sunshine in her flowered blue dress, smiling as she headed his way. Not only smiling, but by some miracle smiling at _him._

She greeted him with a cheerful, “Hey!” and swept a hand down behind her as the breeze flirted with her not quite knee length skirt. 

“Hey,” he echoed. In his state of awe, it took him a second longer than it should have to open the car for her and give her a hand in. He waited for her to find her seatbelt before closing the door and going back around to the driver’s side.

She wore another pair of those impossible stilettos, these a pale and rosy nude, and he was a little disappointed that they had no straps this time. They were skimpy about the upper, though, and looked as if they only just clung to her feet. He followed her bare legs hungrily up to the hem of her skirt, his hands itching to make their way beneath it. There were pairs of birds in the large print of the fabric, small and so occasionally placed that he’d missed them at first. Her bodice was made with a slender halter neckline that showed off her shoulders and arms. There wasn’t actually that much to the dress. It was Belle who made it striking.

She was looking expectantly at him, and he realized he hadn’t yet started the car.

“You’re beautiful,” Ian said without thinking. He cleared his throat quietly and turned the key in the ignition. “You look nice.”

“So do you, with the-” She pointed to her chest, where his shirt and tie showed above his waistcoat in the same area. Then she smoothed her hands down her front. “Really nice. I’m not underdressed, am I?”

“No, not at all.”

“Because you’re-”

“Often overdressed,” he assured her with a smile.

She reflected the smile right back at him. He felt lost. Her wide blue eyes made something deep in his belly run hot and gave him a need to keep her safe at the same time. Ian understood suddenly that he was in far, far over his head. 

Belle laced her hands together in her lap and cast a couple of what she thought were sly glances at Ian. He was even more handsome than she’d remembered. There were threads of silvery-gray in his hair, mostly at the temples, and it looked good on him.

The thought, _I’d look good on him, too,_ popped into her head and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

She turned a bit toward him as he pulled away from the curb and onto the mostly empty street. “So, where are we going?”

He gave her a quick look before returning his attention to the road. “Have you been to The Almondseed?”

She shook her head. “All my meals thus far have been from Granny’s Diner or the freezer section, so no.”

Ian tried not to cringe. Granny’s was more or less passable as food. But frozen dinners? He shuddered to think. “I’m honored to be sharing your first decent meal in town, then.”

“What kind of restaurant is it?” she asked.

“Greek,” he replied as he turned down a side street. “It isn’t a terribly big place, but the food is excellent.”

His accent was Scottish, Belle realized. It was the deliciously rolled ‘R’ in ‘Greek’ that had finally clued her in. The brogue of it was softened, though. She figured he must have been in the states for a while. 

“I didn’t think you’d take me anywhere that wasn’t,” she said, and when Ian looked over, she was smiling at him again. He wasn’t sure how he would make it through the evening if she kept doing that.

He parked in front of The Almondseed’s pretty blue and white façade, going around to open her door and take her hand as she got out of the car. The restaurant looked as though it had lived comfortably in its spot there for a very long time, Belle thought. There were flower pots in all sorts of styles and colors lined up across the front, each holding a plant that was obviously well nurtured. Bright blue shutters handpainted with white and orange flowers flanked the restaurant’s windows. There were quite a few other cars in the parking lot, so there was something about the place that people in town appreciated.

Ian walked her in with a hand light in the small of her back. The bit of pressure through her dress had her warm all the way through. If there’d been room in her shoes, her toes would have wiggled. 

The hostess seated them at the far edge of the busy section, where tables weren’t yet solidly filled. They had something almost like privacy as they settled in and began looking over their menus.

“The sou…” Belle pursed her lips, not willing to stumble over the word in front of him. “Meatballs in tomato sauce. Those look good.”

“They do,” Ian agreed as he read.

“Mm, and they have iced tea.” She looked over the top of her menu at him. Finding him looking steadily back at her, she flicked her gaze back down again and hid her grin behind the laminated pages.

The waitress approached their table and Belle set her menu aside to be taken. She looked to Ian when the woman asked whether they were ready to order, wondering whether he’d taken her hint.

“We’ll begin with an order of stuffed grape leaves,” Ian said, skimming through the menu again as he ordered. “Soutzoukakia for the lady, tourlou-tourlou for myself, and two iced teas.”

“Thank you,” Belle said as the waitress took the menus and left them. She allowed herself a pleased squirm. He’d caught quickly onto her hint about ordering for her. She took it as a good sign.

“What do you do?” he asked, reaching out to straighten the bundle of silverware at his setting. “How to you occupy your time?”

“I don’t do too much right now,” she admitted. “I’m looking for a job. I have a little savings I can live off of until I find something, though. I have a couple of paying projects I’m working on from home, but mostly I’m sitting around and reading right now.”

Ian paid close attention while she talked, and that in itself was just a little exciting. He actually seemed interested. “Paying projects?”

“I’m restoring a couple of books for the Farnsworth Museum Library,” Belle told him proudly. There was a small but impressed twitch of his eyebrows. “A first edition of _Error’s Chains_ and a copy of _Letters of Lady Rachel Russell_ with some amazing fore-edge painting.”

“Restoration. That sounds like work suited to a larger city,” he pointed out.

She shrugged. “I’d rather get less notable work and feel more comfortable with my living situation.”

There was something that she didn’t say there, but Ian didn’t push. She’d looked away when she spoke, her eyes shifting temporarily to the short, fat trio of unlit candles at the center of the table.

“Understandable,” he said, and she looked up at him again. 

He had taken her hair for brown in the low light at the party. It fell in dark auburn waves to her waist, though, coming to life with every move she made, and he imagined what it might be like to have his hands in it.

“What is it that you do?” Belle asked him, hoping to take the focus off herself for a while.

“Nothing nearly as intriguing as book restoration,” he demurred. “You’ve seen the pawn shop on Main Street?”

“I have. Oh! That’s your shop?” She waved a hand as though she could wave away her words, resisting the urge to cover her face with it. “Of course it is. Your name is right there on the sign.”

Ian made a small, dismissive sound. “You had no way of knowing I’m the only Gold in Storybrooke.”

Grateful for his reassurance, she backtracked to the point of their conversation. “The pawn shop business hardly sounds boring, though. You have all kinds of interesting stuff in the display.”

“I own a few properties around town, and I rent them for a bit of income. The lion’s share of it, really.” The waitress returned with their drinks and he quieted until she’d gone again. “The pawn and antiquities business doesn’t pay the bills outside of tourist season.”

Belle took a sip of her tea, enjoying the cold trail it left as it went down. “How did you get into it, then? Is it a labor of love, or-?”

“More or less. I suppose I came to my shop in a similar way to you and your restorations at home.” Ian took a couple of packets of sugar from the holder on the table, adding them to his tea before tasting it. “I was a defense attorney out of Glasgow for near fifteen years. Until I acquired a distaste for it.”

She didn’t miss the sound of Ian shifting his foot against the carpet beneath the table. “You enjoy your shop more than lawyering, though?”

“By leaps and bounds.” He chuckled, not much humor behind it. 

Belle gave him a decisive nod. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Their food came out, and the next few minutes were filled with an easy quiet as they began to eat. Belle had only just poked a bite of stuffed grape leaf into her mouth when Ian spoke.

He rested his fork against the side of his plate, again giving her his full attention. “Do you mind if I ask - what is it you’re looking for? In the context of this.”

She took a moment to put her thoughts together into something sensible. “I want… something good,” she told him, starting off simply. “Someone who knows what they’re doing and cares about doing it right. And who has experience and control. Who won’t take advantage if I can’t say no when they know I wouldn’t want them to do some particular thing. Someone who I feel comfortable with.”

Ian nodded along up to the end of her description. “You would feel comfortable with me?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” she said with a smile, and a distinct warmth gathered between her thighs when he smiled back. “What are you looking for?”

“I’m not looking,” Ian said. There was a flicker of disappointment in her features, and he hurried to correct himself before her feelings were injured. “I _wasn’t_ looking. It’s been a very long time between partners of any sort. I fear I may be rusty.”

The calm of her expression recovered. “Well, judging by how sore my butt was all day Sunday, if that was you rusty, I’m excited to see what happens when you’re back in practice.”

He attempted to hide just how pleased his grin was by going back to his dinner. “I’m glad you enjoyed that.”

“Didn’t you?”

“Oh, very much,” Ian assured her. 

Voice lowered, Belle leaned across a little. “I’ve been missing the sting you left for days.”

“I’ll see what I can do about that,” he replied, leaning in as she did.

Her stomach flipped as though she’d been promised a present. She supposed she had, in a way.

“Belle,” Ian began, “if we found something agreeable between us-”

“I’m agreeable,” she said with a bright little grin.

“Would this be your first submission to someone identifying as a dominant? Someone who didn’t come at it on a lark?” he asked, and when her cheerful expression faltered, he spoke more candidly. “The way you phrased what you want, it made me wonder. There’s nothing wrong if that’s the case.”

“It might be,” she allowed.

His gaze remained locked on her, not having the way she hedged.

She squirmed again, pressing her lips together for a moment before answering. “Yes, Sir. It would be.”

Ian nodded, sipping from his iced tea. “I’m patient,” he said as he set the glass back on the table, and Belle felt a flutter down low when his expression softened again. “It’s one of my few virtues. I’m patient, and I’m disciplined, and I know what I’m doing.” 

“Good,” she said, leaning her arms on the edge of the table. “That’s precisely what I’m looking for.”

He stacked slices of pepper, eggplant, and tomato together thoughtfully before spearing them through with his fork. “I wouldn’t mind a tentative arrangement.”

Belle’s brows drew together. “Tentative?”

“Meaning that I wouldn’t require anything terribly strict of you when you were away from me. Or at all, if that’s your preference,” he clarified for her. “I would only ask that you let me know if you do have sex with someone else.”

“That sounds fair,” Belle said. She wasn’t sure whether she was glad of a lack of restrictions and requirements or not. “For safety’s sake. I’d ask you to do the same.”

He huffed a laugh through his nose.

“What? I don’t think asking the same thing of you is out of line.”

“No, no, of course it isn’t.” Ian held up a hand to assure her. “I only mean, that isn’t something you need worry about out of me.”

“Oh.” She cut a meatball into pieces and turned one over in the sauce, trying to quickly decide whether to challenge a rule so soon. “Okay, sorry, I already kind of have a quibble.”

He looked up at her. “Please, tell.”

“I _like_ having things required of me,” she told him. “So, that- you know, if you like that, I’m more than all right with it.”

“Such as?” he encouraged before taking a bite.

Belle shrugged again, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Whatever you want to require. I’m always open to ideas.”

Another waitress stopped by to freshen their drinks, and their discussion cut short until she finished and moved on to another table. 

“What manner of arrangement do you wish this to be?” Ian asked her, and when she didn’t seem to know what to say, he offered examples to give her something to expand on. “A more general bit of submission? Something soft? Aggressive? A ‘daddy’ sort of thing?”

“Oh, I, um- no, not a ‘daddy’ situation, I don’t think.” Belle swallowed over a bite of dinner that didn’t feel as though it had gone down just right after his question. All kinds of possibilities flew through her thoughts, and none of them were disagreeable. “Not completely, anyway? Not that anything’s wrong with it. As for how hard I want to go, I’d say aggressive is a good start.”

“We’ll work on what ‘aggressive’ means for you, then,” Ian said as he pushed his mostly empty plate back. “Give me some examples of things you enjoy.”

Belle hummed and turned her fork over with the piece of meatball stuck to it. “I enjoy dirty talk,” she confessed, glancing over to make sure that the nearest people - seated the space of an empty table away - couldn’t hear her. “Sexual words are wide open for name calling. But nothing insulting my, um- my mind? No ‘stupid’ - nothing like that.”

“I’m glad you don’t prefer those,” he told her. “We’ll call that a mutual hard limit.”

Belle nodded, mostly to herself.

“How do you feel about pain? I know for a fact that you enjoy a sound spanking. I saw evidence of that in your panties,” he said, deliberately provoking her. When she looked up at him with wide eyes, he knew he’d hit the right mark. “Beyond that, though.”

“Pain, I like. Yeah.” Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. “I’d like for us to play with pain.”

“Do you have a safe word that you’re accustomed to?”

“Nothing beyond the usual red, yellow, green?”

“Can you talk to me about something else you particularly enjoy out of a scene?” he encouraged when she didn’t follow with more.

“I need you to be tested,” Belle told him. It was one thing she’d never had qualms about asking of anyone.

“Of course,” Ian said, though her response seemed to have come a little left field of where he thought the conversation was. “STIs-”

“No, I- well, yes. Yes, of course STIs, and I’ll get a fresh test, too. But it’s also that, um…”

After a moment of seeing her struggle, he reached across the table to lay his hand over her idle one next to her plate. “This only works well if we’re honest with one another. What is it that you mean?”

“One of my favorite things,” she said, then lowered her voice so much that he almost had to strain to hear. “One of my favorite things is being come inside.”

His jaw went slack just enough that Belle saw his lips part. “Oh.”

“If you don’t do that, though-” she began, taking his brief response for disapproval. “If it’s not something you enjoy-”

“No! I’m sorry, yes,” Ian said quickly as the very pleasant surprise wore off. He grinned over at her. “Please, take that as an emphatic _‘yes’_ in regards to one of your favorite things.”

Belle shifted in her chair, her smile pulling at her lower lip as she pinched it between her front teeth.

“A come slut as well as a pain slut, then?” His hand subtly wrapped around her wrist as he ventured into _that_ territory. He watched carefully for her reaction.

It was the type of language she’d have given someone a ringing slap for directing toward her in daily life. The kind she would jump to vehemently defend another girl from. When it came to this sort of situation, however? Belle’s breath left her. 

She pressed her thighs together beneath the table, feeling the distinct sensation of herself getting wet. “Yes, Sir.”

A pleased smirk curled in one corner of Ian’s mouth. “Tell me, Belle, what else do you enjoy?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Spanking and exhibitionism.
> 
> [Prompts - _standbyyourmantis said: The Tie That Binds: First date jitters + semi public oral sex_ (and) _betweenpaperpages prompted: Mirrors]_

“I enjoy teasing. The physical kind,” Belle said, concentrating on the warmth of his hand and the contact that he gave her. “And I _like_ being told what to do, being given things to remind me who I am to you even when I’m not with you. So you don’t have to avoid that. And, um…”

She looked sidelong at the couple nearby as they got up from their chairs and left, then turned her attention back to Ian. Slipping one of her stilettos off, she slid her right foot across the carpet until her bare toes hit his shoe. His expression took on the slightest bit of surprise as she followed his trouser leg. She ran her foot up the side of his calf and past the bend of his knee, along the inside of his thigh and right into his crotch.

“Sometimes I get a thrill out of semi-public activities?” she said by way of an explanation. A muscle in his jaw twitched when she curled her toes against him, appreciating the warmth there, too. 

Ian did his best to pretend that he was unaffected, resisting the urge to grab her ankle and hold her foot where it was. “You’re a little exhibitionist, too, are you?”

She tilted her head and shrugged one shoulder toward it. “Maybe a little.”

“We’ll talk more. We’ll always talk more,” he promised, “but how do you feel about the things we’ve discussed tonight? Would it be an arrangement to your liking?” He searched her face for any hesitance.

“Very much,” she said immediately. Her toes stopped moving, though, her foot resting on the edge of the chair.

He could see that more spun through her head that she wanted to say. She got an almost frantic look about her when she left something unsaid. “What else?”

Belle pressed at her last bite of meatball with her fork until it squished through the tines, trying to work her way toward admitting what it was that she wanted. It was so much easier to request the physical parts, the pain and the pleasure. The emotional parts of it were more difficult for her to ask for.

She spoke quietly when she reached for the words. “I do need to be taken care of. That has to be a part of this. All the kinky stuff - I need that. But I need to be taken care of, too.”

He watched her with curiously soft eyes until she’d finished her explanation. “And what does being taken care of involve for you, sweetheart? Are you talking about aftercare? Or is it something more?”

Ian’s endearment almost took her breath again. It had been such a long time since someone had called her by endearments that she felt they meant. 

“Aftercare, yeah,” she said. “That’s a necessity.”

“It is,” he agreed. “That would be a part of my responsibility to you.”

“I mean beyond that, too. But I don’t mean, like, putting money in my bank account.” Belle laid her fork down, the bite of food too mushed and cold to be appetizing any longer. She sighed. “It’s hard for me to explain just what I mean.”

“Try,” Ian urged her. He could easily have provided her with more caretaking scenarios, but it was something he wanted to hear in her own words, not simply chiming along with his own.

She drew a deep breath, watching the ice cubes melting in her tea. It took her a while, and she was glad he’d remarked that he was a patient man. 

“I don’t want to be ignored or forgotten about in between scenes,” she finally said. “I can’t be satisfied with that, with- with an occasional scene and being tossed away. I want to see you even when we’re not planning to have sex. I want you to talk to me and treat me like a person, not a repeated one night stand.”

“You want a relationship?” he said, and the statement was a gentle one, without the judgment or ridicule she’d been phrasing so carefully to avoid.

“I guess that is what I mean, isn’t it?” Belle flinched, not quite managing to keep it inside. She’d been around enough to understand that not many men who wanted her, and who wanted to do the same things she enjoyed, would want her in the kind of arrangement that she needed. None she’d ever crossed paths with, at least.

“An open, dominant-submissive relationship,” Ian said, spelling it out slowly and making it clear for them both. “One in which you’re taken care of, held dear. That’s what you need to be happy?”

“Yeah. When you put it like that, it sounds like a stretch, doesn’t it?” She forced a laugh up from her throat. It sounded fake even to her own ears.

“No. It isn’t a stretch at all,” he reassured her. “We can do that, Belle. For as long as you wish, I can give you that.” 

He didn’t admit to the part that already stung a little. _Until you find something better._ He wasn’t sure how a woman as lovely as she was in every way existed; it was inevitable that she would eventually realize how lacking he was.

The smile that bloomed across her face was brilliant and ecstatic, as if she’d never expected him to strike such a deal, but her verbal response was small. “Really?”

“The boundaries are up to you. Anything that needs to change, we discuss together.” He gave her wrist a squeeze before letting go of her hand. “Everything is up to you.” 

“Not everything,” she said. “I want to know that you’re enjoying yourself, too.”

“Trust me, darling, I’ll enjoy myself.” Her insistence was endearing, but he was certain that she had nothing to worry about in that respect. Taking what he’d learned about her over the course of their meal, Ian pitched his voice low and even, telling her, “I’m going into the ladies’ washroom. You’ll follow me in five minutes. If you decide not to join me, that it’s too soon, that’s fine. You don’t have to. I’ll come back to the table and we’ll continue talking.”

Ian placed his napkin on the table before rising from his seat, and Belle watched him walk away. She looked to the meander bordered clock on the wall behind her to check the time. There was no indecision; she fully intended to join him from the moment he told her where he was going. 

Their waitress stopped by to top up their tea glasses and Belle took the chance to tell her, “I need to step away. Please don’t clear our table? We aren’t done.”

“Sure thing, honey,” the waitress said, and she zipped away.

Belle turned to look at the clock again. Five minutes had never seemed so long, and the anticipation wasn’t doing anything but making her situation beneath her dress more dire. The instant the minute hand clicked over, she was up and on her way back toward the front of the restaurant and the bathrooms.

It was later than she’d realized. The town outside the windows was dark and most of the patrons had gone, though there were still a couple of other tables with people at them. She and Ian had talked longer than she thought. Time had gotten away from her, and she liked that he had such an effect.

Belle ducked into the bathroom. Her hand automatically reached for the inside knob, but there was no lock to turn. She looked to Ian where he stood in front of a pair of sinks and the mirror behind them. He’d taken off his suit jacket and folded it neatly on the counter while he waited for her, and at the sight of him in his shirtsleeves, an anxious thrill went through her stomach.

She went to him, and he waited until she got well within arm’s reach to bring her the last step on his own. Ian slipped his hand along her side and caught it at her back, giving her an insistent pull that brought her right up against him. He held her there, bringing his free hand up to brush over one of her shoulders and then the other, pushing her hair back. 

It had taken more nerve than Ian thought he could gather to tell her to meet him in the bathroom and then walk away from her. The five minutes between that and Belle pushing open the door had been worse. Near the end of it, he’d almost convinced himself that she wouldn’t join him.

He held her tightly to him with one hand, aware of how she looked up at him. Her attention remained locked on his face, and he fought himself to keep from looking right back at her. If he met those big blue eyes, he didn’t think his composure would survive it. 

With her hair out of the way, he rested his open hand on the bare skin above her dress’ neckline. Her breath stuttered as he slid his hand higher, only just holding his fingers curled against her slender throat before moving his hand over her shoulder. At the back of her neck, he found the string that held up the front of her dress, and he pulled open the small bow she’d tied in it. He worked the bit of blue cotton that covered her down to her waist, baring her breasts.

Ian relaxed the arm that held her enough that he could see what he was doing as he ran his hand a short way down her breastbone. He cupped his palm beneath one small curve and stroked across her nipple with the pad of his thumb, watching as it tightened with his touch. Belle’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment when he moved his hand to catch hold of her nipple between his thumb and the side of his index finger, and he knew that she understood what he meant to do. He gave the tight little bud a pinch and a tug, giving it enough of a stretch that it made her breath hiccup in and then leave her again with a soft whimper. Ian, keeping himself under a tight rein, closed his throat against a sound of his own.

Belle felt every touch Ian gave her as if he meant it to make her wetter. She fought the need to squirm, to press herself against him, determined to behave herself and wait for him to guide her. She kept her eyes on his, hoping that he would look at her the way he had looked at her while they talked. His eyes seemed to follow his touches, though. 

Her hands, kept carefully at her sides, began to tremble a little bit when he moved on to treat her other nipple as he had the first. It had been a while since she’d been touched intimately by anyone but herself. She thought she must be radiating the sheer amount of _want_ she felt.

He gave her breast a firm and almost startling pat. With his voice pitched low, his accent heavier than she’d yet heard it, he told her, “Get down on your knees.”

Her head spun. She kneeled on the bathroom tile at his feet, his arm dropping away from her as she did as he said. Ian didn’t move to undo his trousers, so she took the initiative and slipped his belt open.

“There you go,” he said from above her, his tone still oddly heavy. “Not all the way down.”

Belle took down his zipper and slid her hand in, her fingers easily finding the opening in his boxers. He was already hard, his cock pushing against the tailored fabric, and she brought it out so that she could see. The sight made her mouth water. She wanted to see more of him. She wanted to see _all_ of him, but for now, she just couldn’t wait to have him in her mouth.

She could see the shape of the head through his foreskin, and she eased it away to indulge in a better look. A droplet of pre-come ran around the edge of it as she drew it back to reveal what she so badly wanted. He looked as if he’d been hard for a while, and she delighted in the apparent fact that he’d been as turned on as she was by their conversation.

Belle leaned in to catch the next drop with her tongue as it welled up. It was thin, spreading as soon as she caught it, and she stroked the salty-sweet taste across her palate with the tip of her tongue before taking the head of his cock into her mouth. His pre-come mixed with her saliva until her sense of taste was overwhelmed with him.

When she began sucking him in earnest, she felt his hand on her head, gathering a generous handful of hair back from her face to hold in his fist near her scalp. He held on tightly though not painfully, as if he were getting ready to guide her motions. She gradually took more of him into her mouth, bobbing her head and holding her thumb and first two fingers open at the base to accommodate him as his cock grew harder. 

Taking him farther back, she pressed her tongue to the underside, rolling it against the vein there. Ian grunted and her body reacted to the sound, her pussy clenching as if it begged for something of its own. In arousal and excitement, Belle tried to take the head of his cock all the way to the back of her mouth. What her body could do and what her mind wanted didn’t quite connect, and she gagged. 

Ian pulled her off him by the handful of her hair he held. “You still have a gag reflex,” he observed and clucked his tongue. “Tsk. We’ll need to fix that, won’t we?”

“I don’t mind gagging, I’m okay,” she said breathlessly.

“I mind.” He tilted her head back so that she had to look up at him. 

Ian kept her there, meeting her eyes again, and she almost whimpered. She’d expected the look on his face to be hard and angry. His expression held some sternness to it, but it was also open, and his eyes were dark with need. That much need, that much arousal, and still he’d stopped her instead of pushing forward.

Belle nodded as best she could. “Yes, Sir.” 

She looked at his cock again, finding herself connected to it by a thin, clear string of saliva. She strained to get back to it, needing him in her mouth again. He held her away for a moment, though, just shy of being able to touch him. When he finally allowed her to take him back into her mouth, she sucked at him more hungrily than before. She found a new desperation to make him happy.

Before long, she heard a low sound from him - a rumble deep in his throat. Ian gave her another moment before pulling her off him again. He let go of her hair and replaced her hand on his cock with his own, tugging hard at himself twice. He aimed for her chest and she felt each warm spurt of his come as it landed across her breasts.

Belle licked her lips. She wanted it in her mouth. She understood why he had gone for her chest this time, but she would have given quite a lot to have him finish in her mouth. 

He reached down, resting a hand at the side of her head for a second. “Good girl,” he said, and he ran his hand over her hair. “Such a good girl.”

All of her air left her in a soft outward gasp. She turned her face up to him, leaning into his touch.

Ian tucked himself away, zipping his trousers and putting his belt back to rights. He leaned to catch a hand beneath her arm from behind and brought her to her feet, not too certain how steady she could be.

Belle’s lips were red and swollen from friction and good work. He recognized the look on her face from the night of the party - her flushed cheeks, the slow blink and the daze in her eyes. 

“Are you all right to keep going?” he asked quietly.

She nodded and turned away from him, facing the sinks. Leaning over the counter, she began pulling her skirt up.

He put his hands on hers. “No, sweetheart,” he told her, looking at her over her shoulder in the mirror. 

Belle gave him a bewildered, “No?”

“No,” he said again, and he placed her hands on the tiled counter. “Not yet.”

Ian stepped a bit to her side, so that he could see her reflection and reach to draw her skirt up, himself. He ran his hand over her ass, reacquainting himself with the feeling of her skin against his palm. Holding his hand at the spot he aimed for low on her ass, he gave it a pat, following quickly with a hard slap. The sharp sound of it rang off the tile. Belle flinched and then moaned as her body relaxed again. He watched as the handprint faded in.

“Is that the sting you meant?” he asked, his lips so close to her ear that she feel the vibration of his voice.

Before she could answer, he gave her another spank next to the first. Belle squeaked at the sudden impact of it. She bit her lip to keep from making too much noise as Ian did the same to the other cheek - a pat and then a pair of hard strikes with a moment between to allow her to relax. They left her trembling. Ian grabbed the cheek with the more recent stinging, putting pressure on the tender area.

He asked her again, “Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes, Sir,” she breathed, almost writhing against him.

Moving to stand directly behind her, Ian brought her back a couple of small steps so that she could see more of herself in the mirror. He pulled the front of her skirt up to meet the bodice where it gathered around her waist, humming when he found her pantyless and shaven.

“My, my,” he purred against the shell of her ear. “It’s all or nothing with you, isn’t it?”

Reaching down, he closed a hand around her left wrist, bringing her arm up with his to wrap around her waist. Together they kept her dress pinned so that they could both see her bare pussy in the reflection. Ian leaned her ever so slightly forward to put her just off balance, making her depend on him to keep from toppling forward. 

He brought his other hand up to hold her jaw firmly so that she couldn’t look away. “Touch yourself,” he told her. “Do it however you like, but I want that hand on your cunt.”

Her eyes went a bit glassy before she answered him. “Yes, Sir.”

Belle’s hand moved slowly from her side. She stroked first along her outer lips before dipping her fingertips into her slit. Her hand moved so easily, almost without friction at all. She’d been wet since early in their date. It had only gotten worse the more they talked. Her fingers slid farther, but she could only get them shallowly inside because of the position he had her in.

“God, look at how wet you are,” Ian whispered to her as she brought her fingers forward again, stroking the middle two on either side of her clit. “You’ve made a mess, haven’t you? First your chest, now this. Having a cock in your mouth turned you on that much?”

Her bottom pushed itself back against his groin. “Please…”

“No,” he told her. “I want to see you try to make yourself come.”

Ian held her snug against him. He could feel the small motions translated through her body as she rubbed at herself. She’d given him part of her weight, and he kept her upright while she worked. With her trust, the knife edge of his nervousness had dulled. He concentrated on giving her what she needed - or as much of it as he could give her tonight.

He felt her breathing quicken again. Her brow drew a bit, and the muscles around her ribcage began to tense. Ian had the feeling she was getting close.

It was time to interrupt her. “Stop.”

Belle didn’t move her hand. She clenched her eyes shut, stroking faster as though she could make herself come before he could make her stop. He let go of her face to reach down and force her hand away. Her eyes flew open and she frowned at him in the mirror as he held her hand out to the side.

“I told you to stop,” Ian said. “I don’t want to have to tell you anything twice. Do you understand me?”

She nodded, but the desperate tension remained in her. 

“What was that?” he asked near her ear. 

Belle swallowed, searching for the words that he wanted her to give him. “Yes, Sir. I understand.”

“Watch in the mirror.” He let go of her hand, replacing it with his own. 

She watched as his fingers slid deep into her pussy. Ian spread them as he brought his hand forward again, opening her so that she could see the flushed, dusky pink of herself before he mimicked the way she’d masturbated. He stroked her clitoris indirectly between his fingers, and her body picked up near where he’d made her leave off. Her free hand, still slick, clung to the shirtsleeve of the arm he held around her. He didn’t seem to mind. 

“I need- please, I need-” Her voice shook apart. 

Belle whined. She couldn’t put together an entire thought out loud, and she thought she might _actually_ die if he didn’t finish her off.

Ian rubbed her more slowly than she’d done for herself. He wanted to savor this. Her first orgasm at his hand. The heat of her was amazing, and the back of his mind filled with possibilities. He could give her so much, show her what she could do. To begin with, he would train her to ask permission for this in the future. He would teach her how to hold back until he allowed it, but for now… 

“Go on,” he whispered. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

She fell apart in his arms, eyes squeezing shut, shuddering while her muscles tensed and released again and again. Her thighs clenched around his hand so tightly that he could no longer move it, and he simply cradled her pussy as she made her way through.

“That’s right. There you go.” Ian leaned his head against hers when she stilled. “I’ve got you.”

He recalled how scattered and wobbly she’d been after her spanking at the party, and he was prepared this time. He held onto her until she opened her eyes and looked at him in the mirror rather than somewhere in the middle distance.

“Belle?” he said, moving his hand away when he felt her thighs release. “How do you feel?”

She nodded her head, still holding onto his arm.

“Can you give me a word or two?” he urged.

Belle pulled in a deep breath. “I’m okay.”

He held her to him for another couple of minutes before asking, “I’m going to help you clean up, all right?”

“Yes, Sir,” she acknowledged.

“You needn’t call me ‘sir’ just now.” He helped her to turn around. Her hand seemed hesitant to let go of his sleeve, but after a moment, she did.

A ghost of a smile crossed her face. “I’d rather.”

Ian guided her a step back toward the counter. “I’m going to help you up, all right? So that you can sit.”

“Mm-hm.” Belle did what she could to make it easier to get her perched on the counter’s edge, though she wasn’t sure whether the hop she attempted when he set his hands to her waist and lifted did anything. She felt as though every cell in her was vibrating.

Ian turned away and she grasped for him, catching his hand. “I’m only going right here,” he said, pointing to the paper towel dispenser. 

She didn’t let go. He let her keep his hand while he stretched to pull piece after piece from the dispenser, accumulating enough to drop a good stack of paper towels into the sink. He ran hot water over them.

“All right,” he said, standing just in front of her. “I’m staying right here. We’re going to wash up, hm?”

When it became clear that he meant to stay where he was, she released Ian’s hand. He folded her skirt back again and took a paper towel, washing up the insides of her thighs. With another, he gently washed between her legs, offering a soft apology when she winced at the oversensitive area being touched. He washed her knees, where she’d knelt on the washroom floor, then began wiping the streaks of his come from her breasts. 

“I want more time with these,” he told her, giving her a smile before he leaned in to press a kiss to one of her nipples. 

Belle hummed happily, wanting to tell him that he could spend all the time he wanted on them. She was still working on stringing words into sentences.

“Me, too,” she said, and hoped it got across that she meant him and not herself having quality time with her breasts.

Ian wiped the stickiness from her hands, then shook out another paper towel until it wasn’t quite so hot, and he washed her face and neck. She was glad that she hadn’t gone all out with her makeup. It was one thing to have mascara running down her face in private, but in a restaurant it only raised questions. He ran another towel under cold water. She hadn’t realized how flushed with heat her face was until he began pressing it to her cheeks.

“I’m all right,” she told him, catching a look of concern on his face. She spun a hand in front of her. “I’m on my way back.”

“Here,” Ian murmured. He sorted the neckline of her dress from the folds of it at her front and began working her bodice up again. Once it was in place, he brought the strings around to the back of her neck, leaning into her so that he could get them properly tied. “Is that right?”

She shifted the top of her dress a bit until it felt like it was in the proper place. “Thank you.”

“Ah…” He made what she could only see as an expression of dismay at her dress.

Belle looked down and saw it. There was a droplet of come to one side of her neckline. “Oh. Crap,” she said, but she laughed.

He gathered some of her hair, bringing it forward to fall over the small stain. “There?”

“That’s just right.” She rested her hands on his shoulders and leaned to kiss his cheek. 

Ian looked at her when she sat back again, and it took her a moment to place his expression this time. He looked at her like she was something special.

“I guess we should-” She gestured with a tilt of her head to the washroom door, and he shook off whatever it was.

“Yes, I suppose we should.” He took his jacket from the counter next to her and slipped it back on. “Do you feel like going back out front for dessert? Would you rather I take you home?”

“Hey, I’m not getting cheated out of my fancy dessert,” she said, holding onto his arm as she slid carefully down from the counter.

Playing along with an open mouth and a hand to his chest, Ian feigned offense. “I would _never_ cheat you out of dessert. What sort of monster do you take me for?”

Smothering a giggle, she looped her arm through his when he offered it. She still felt a little pulled aside from the rest of the world, but it was a good feeling. She was present enough that it felt as if Ian was in that aside place with her.

“I want baklava,” she decided as he peered out the door to make sure no one was there to see them. “That one I can actually pronounce.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: _Intense_ spanking, consensual crying, orgasm denial.
> 
> [Prompts - _betweenpaperpages prompted: What if she is wiggling in arousal so much that Gold pipes up (because its becoming distracting) "If you keep moving, I'm going to have to tie you down"]_

He woke the next morning with guilt gnawing in his chest. He’d made a mistake. She would have gotten home and realized it, and then quickly realized that she should stay far, _far_ away from him.

Ian turned over, trying to force himself back to sleep. It wasn’t yet light out, and he needed to be down at the shop early to accept deliveries. There was a majolica Italian vase and a full set of 17th century traveling cutlery he'd bought in an estate sale headed toward him, and he had to be there to sign for them or it would be Monday before the service tried again. If he didn’t sleep, he’d likely be late, and the day would be useless.

He could apologize. For the harm he could potentially have put her in, an apology was a pale offering, but it was all that he had. Belle was nothing if not kind - perhaps she would accept it. He turned over again, turning his pillow, as well, beginning to assemble what he would say to her.

There was the space of an hour, more or less, where he thought he might have slept before he woke again around five and gave up. He got out of bed to get ready for the day with Belle present in every corner of his mind.

Their date the evening before had gone far better than he expected. He had been prepared for her to decide that she’d made the wrong decision, to kindly but plainly inform him of as much, and that would have been that. It hadn’t quite gone in that direction, though. Belle had made it clear that she intended to pursue something with him. If he were a better man, he would have simply told her that she’d be better off to keep looking. But he wanted her, and she was not only willing, she was enthusiastic. He also didn’t want to risk her falling in with someone who would take advantage of how much she needed.

Ian found himself walking around the second floor of his house and entertaining ideas that he had never expected to have space for in his life again. He pushed open the door leading into the guest room directly across from his own bedroom. The furniture was covered with drop cloths, the room having gone unused for - what was it? Twelve years? However long it had been since his son had gotten old enough to want the room at the end of the hallway and more distance from his parents’ arguing. 

He no longer had the equipment to do this properly. He’d rid the house of all of his own things years ago. What could be safely given away, he’d given, and the rest he’d disposed of. It was premature for him to think about amassing a collection again, much less adapting an entire play area. Ian had no idea what he would do with it all when she eventually found someone better suited to her needs and he was left with rooms filled with her. 

Before he could apply too much more imagination to the guest room, he left the house. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that she could love him. It had been more than a solid decade since he’d been cured of such a notion. But affection… He could give her affection and care. He wouldn’t hold her to offering a return in kind. Of course, he couldn’t be certain that she would even have him now.

By the end of the day, he had accepted the expected deliveries, notified the buyers on whose behalves he’d acquired them, and sold a couple of trinkets from among the shop’s wider selection. He had an idea to balance the books for the week around midday, but there was too much going through his head to trust that his calculations were correct. In the end, he sat in the back and fiddled with the innards of a broken clock until time to close up.

Knowing he hadn't enough in his cupboards for a decent meal, he made a detour by the supermarket on his way home. He’d gathered enough for a reasonable dinner when, passing by the freezer section, he recalled how Belle had remarked upon her frozen ‘food.’ Looking at the small amount in his basket, he decided that he could just as easily make enough to share with her as he could for himself. 

Belle wanted to be taken care of. He would take care of her. For as long as she would allow him. And going over would give him the chance to offer that apology, he told himself as he gathered the components for an entirely different meal. While contemplating pasta, he took his phone from his pocket and called her.

“Hey!” Belle chirped happily when she picked up.

He felt a bit taken aback by her bright greeting. “It’s Ian…”

“I know who it is. I have you in my phone,” she said, and he could hear her amusement. “It’s nice to hear from you.”

Uncertain how to respond, Ian fell back on his reason for calling her in the first place. “What have you eaten today?”

“What have I-? Oh, um, a bowl of cereal. A pizza pocket for lunch.” Belle leaned back in her chair, a little curious as to why he asked.

Ian hummed his disapproval. “Would it be all right if I came over?”

She looked around at her mess of a living room, trying to gauge whether she could clean up in time. Maybe the open spaces.

“Yeah! Of course!” she said, getting up to start. She gathered three tea cup handles in one hand and pinned her phone to her shoulder so that she could grab the sliding stack of mail off the coffee table next to them. “I’d love to have you over.”

He took a box of penne and dropped it into his basket. “I thought I’d bring something to eat, if you don’t mind it.”

“Really?” She stopped, losing a half dozen envelopes as she straightened up. “Did you mean right now?”

There was a soft chuckle from his end of the line. “I was aiming for nearer dinnertime.”

Belle relaxed a little. At least she had time to do more than toss stuff into open moving boxes. “Even better.”

~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~

Her apartment wasn’t what she would call _clean,_ but it was in better shape that it had been before Ian called. The coffee table had been cleared off and she’d taken all of the empty dishes to the kitchen. The moving boxes with their flaps flopping open had been closed, and she had run a damp cloth over most of the dust-catching surfaces.

Belle was in the middle of changing her clothes, debating whether heels were too much with a shirtdress or whether she should just put on a pair of sneakers, and the point was lost when he knocked. She hurried out on bare feet to answer. Before getting to the door, she stopped and reached beneath her dress, wiggling her panties down. She hopped to take them off and looked around for somewhere to stash them, finally pushing them into the nearest moving box.

“Come in!” she greeted cheerfully when she opened the door

Ian glanced past her, looking as though he very much wanted to. He set a big, insulated picnic bag next to his feet. “There’s something I need to say, and you may not want me here afterward.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “O… kay?”

“I have an apology to make,” he said.

Well, that made it all the more confusing. “An apology?”

“What I did at the restaurant last night - I’m sorry.” He appeared to have braced for this, holding himself a bit too square. “I could have put you at risk.”

Belle shook her head. “You didn’t put me at risk. _I_ put me at risk.”

“It was my responsibility to-” he began, and she cut him off when she saw where he was going.

She crossed her arms, her smile turning into a patient look as she explained what she thought he should have understood. “Ian, just because I’m a sub doesn’t mean I’m incapable of having a grasp on what I’m doing when I submit.” 

“No, I- I know that.”

“It _was_ half me. It took both of us, if you’ll remember.”

The frown he had, Ian looked as if he wanted to go on blaming himself. That wasn’t at all what she’d hoped for out of the evening.

Belle smiled up at him, taking a step out into the hallway and curling her fingers into the lapels of his jacket. He seemed a little bewildered at how suddenly close she was.

“I could have just not followed you to the bathroom,” she told him. “I could have used my safe word and not gotten down on my knees or sucked your dick, but I _wanted_ to.”

Ian searched her face, and all he could find there was open candor and a bit of exasperation. He nodded. “I know. Still.”

“All right then,” she said, patting her hands against his chest before turning to go back inside. She looked at him over her shoulder. “Now, come on in. I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

He watched the way the back of her little blue dress swished as she went. It wasn’t terribly short, but it was made of something rather slinky, the pointed hem flowing against her thighs as she moved. Ian took up the bag of food again and followed her into the apartment, closing the door after him.

She waited for him in the kitchen. He set the bag on the counter in front of her - in front of both of them, considering how little counter space there was - and reached to open it. She got to the zipper before him and pulled the bag open, peering inside.

“Oh, my God. I thought you were bringing takeout! Ian!” Belle said as she took out the first of a few covered containers.

He gave her a mildly scolding look. “The conversation we had about food last night and you thought I’d bring you takeout?”

She pulled a tall, slender insulated bag out of the corner of the bigger one, opening the cord around the top. It held a nice, chilled bottle of Sauvignon blanc that she could tell was pretty expensive. She gave Ian a teasingly impressed look over it.

“If you’d rather have iced tea-” he began.

“No, no, wine is more than good,” she said as she slid the bottle back into the bag to keep cold while they sorted out the rest of the food.

Ian took out another pair of smaller containers before she reached in for the covered casserole dish on the bottom. She set it down on the counter and popped the lid open, leaning to have a smell of its contents.

“What is this?” Belle asked, inhaling deeply. She gasped. “Is this Italian?” Taking the lid off entirely, she gasped again as she got a look inside. “ _You_ can make Italian?”

“Chicken prosciutto and pasta,” he said. “And I can. As well as a great deal more.”

She stepped closer to Ian so that she could press herself against him, eyes closed and head tilted back.

“You want a kiss?” he asked, and she nodded without opening her eyes.

Ian admired her for a moment - her sweet, round face, the dark waves of hair falling around her shoulders, the shape of her lips as she waited.

“Ask properly,” he told her.

There was a hint of a smile just in the corners of her mouth as she spoke. “Please, may I have a kiss, Sir?”

The kiss he gave her was warm but chaste, brushing his lips against hers. When it became clear that it was all he meant to give her, she opened her eyes. Belle gave him a perturbed look and a little huff.

Ian simply gave her a grin. “Patience. We’ve only begun the evening.”

She turned on her heel, going to fetch plates down from the cupboard. Before taking them over to the food, she stopped at the fridge to bring out the box of kourabiedes he had bought for her before they left the restaurant the night before. She’d taken the box and her vibrator to bed with her, enjoying an orgasm and then a few cookies before going to sleep fairly satisfied. Turning back to Ian, she found him looking at the empty space where a kitchen table was obviously meant to go.

Before she could say anything, he pointed it out. “You don’t have a dining table.”

“Yeah,” she said, taking the plates and cookies over. “I didn’t have one of my own when I moved, and I haven’t had the time to get one yet.”

Ian didn’t voice his suspicion about it having more to do with money than time. 

She took the lids off the rest of the food while he opened the wine, and she directed him to the cupboard where her few drinking glasses lived. He lamented her lack of wine glasses. 

“They’re somewhere…” she told him with a guilty little wrinkle of her nose. “I haven’t unpacked that box yet.”

He rested a hand in the small of her back when he brought a pair of plain glasses over, and a pleasant shiver went through her. “Is it all right if we eat in front of the TV?” she asked as she stuck a spoon into the small dish of green beans he’d brought. “It’s that or a picnic on the floor.”

“In front of the television is just fine,” he said, and he surprised her by dropping a kiss on her cheek. “Do you have a bottle of water?”

She pretended to concentrate on helping her plate, hiding just how big her smile grew. “Mmhm, in the fridge.”

Ian found the water in the refrigerator door and he moved it into the small freezer space above before returning to Belle, who busily heaped spoonfuls of pasta onto his plate. He managed to stop her while he still had room for other things.

He accompanied her back into the living room, taking off his jacket and looking for a place to lay it. Ian found his attention drawn to a sturdy little chair and the well-organized work table it served, both situated in the far corner of the room. When Belle made a return trip to the kitchen for the cookies and bottle of wine, he followed his curiosity over. What appeared to be freshly sewn and glued pages were clamped into a book press, its cover lying nearby in the process of having its gilding redone. Another book, nestled in a box with tissue paper, seemed to have been recently finished. Above her work area, she’d hung the only decoration on the apartment walls thus far - framed Master of Library Science and Master of Art Conservation degrees.

“I’m gonna have an actual room for my restoration work someday,” Belle said when she caught him. “I’ll have a big work table and a nice set of drawers for my tools so I don’t have to keep them in caddies underneath.”

He nodded to the books on her table. “These are the projects you mentioned?”

“They are!” She smiled brightly, reaching out to touch the restored leather of the cover. “Technically, I could restore art, too. I did a lot of that in school. But… yeah, I like books. I like the feeling of getting ones like these back in a condition where they can be read, instead of having to keep them hidden away for protection.”

It took her a while to realize that his attention had shifted directly onto her. The look he gave her was somewhere between fond and appreciative, but he seemed to shake himself quickly out of it.

“Would you mind if I brought you a few books? To be restored?” he asked after another moment.

“Of course!” Belle took his hand and his jacket, tossing the latter across the seat of her work chair. She tugged him back toward the sofa and their food. “I don’t have anything lined up after finishing these.”

She switched the TV over to _The Great British Bake Off_ when they finally sat down and hoped he didn’t mind it. Ian spent the first few minutes expressing his doubt over watching a cooking show while eating, but by the time the judges began going around, she could tell that he’d become invested. She hid a quiet snicker behind her hand when he even muttered over his favored contestant not being named Star Baker.

When they’d finished eating and he settled back in the corner of the sofa that she usually claimed for her own, Belle took the opportunity to tuck herself into his side, curling her legs up to rest them against his thigh. She almost held her breath until he wrapped his arm around her.

“I’m still sorry for one thing,” he said when the episode ended and the TV went back to the selection screen. “A restaurant washroom is not where I should have started things off between us.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she told him, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I enjoyed it.”

Belle couldn’t get it out of her mind, now he’d mentioned it again. She thought about how nice the spanking in the restaurant bathroom had been - nice and hard, even if it had been pretty abbreviated - and how it had felt when he pinned her against him, when he pulled her hand away, when he pushed his fingers into her…

Ian gave her a sidelong look. She sat snugged under his arm, flipping through television channels faster than he thought she could get an idea of what flew past, and he was fairly certain she didn’t realize how she squirmed. He grinned to himself and quietly watched her for a while, quite enjoying the way she pinched her lower lip between her teeth. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked after a few minutes.

“No,” she said quickly. “Nothing wrong.”

When she didn’t offer more, he tightened his arm around her and lowered his voice. “What are you thinking of?”

“What we did in the restaurant,” Belle confessed, rubbing her cheek against the line where his shirt met his waistcoat. She looked up at him and found a smile in the corner of his mouth.

Ian held his hand out, asking for the remote, and she gave it to him. He turned the TV off completely and set the remote on the table next to the sofa. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She pulled her knees in closer, not quite whispering when she asked, “More?”

“More what?” he pushed.

“More… Sir?” she replied, pressing her lips together over a tart little smile.

He loosened his arm around her so that he could reach down and give her butt a swat. “More _of_ what?”

Belle sputtered over a short giggle in response. “More of that. And… your fingers,” she said, her toes curling as she imagined them inside her again.

He held her in suspense for a moment more before patting her again. “Up.”

With a smile, she pushed away from Ian so that she could kneel next to him, and she gathered her dress up around her waist.

“Where are your panties?” he asked, running a hand over her naked hip. “Did you not wear any again today?”

“Um…” Belle swayed her bottom back and forth a little. “I know I had them before you called.”

“Mm, and I suppose they simply went missing afterward?”

Her smile grew, and she brought a hand up to hide it behind fingers curled at her mouth.

“Where are they?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I’m sure they’re _somewhere_ around.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to find them,” Ian said. “Find them and bring them here.”

She went on holding her dress up as she left the sofa, walking across to the front door. Ian chuckled as silently as he could. She’d gotten rid of them when he arrived, then. He watched her pull open the moving box nearest the door and lean down to look inside. Belle’s bare ass stuck up in the air, and he caught a peek of her pussy when she bent over. It didn’t take her long to find her panties and hurry back, holding the bit of flowered white cotton out to him.

Ian took her panties and patted his lap. “Come on, then.”

Belle approached him from the arm side of the sofa, taking the hand that he offered to help her down and lying across his lap, facing the side with more open space. He reached over her to grab one of the big, overstuffed throw pillows from near the other end.

“Here,” he said, and she raised up on her hands so that he could place the pillow beneath her.

She rested her head and shoulders on the pillow, sliding her hands underneath it and turning her face so she could see him. “Do it so it’ll keep hurting for a while?” she asked a bit shyly.

“You’re sure?” Ian pushed her dress higher, baring part of her back to him, too.

She nodded against the pillow. “Very, very sure.”

He reached out, touching her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I can make you cry, sweetheart.”

Belle smiled, feeling a flutter of pleasure deep in her belly, and she was unable to help a wriggle of excitement.

Ian ran his hand lightly across her ass cheeks, enjoying the way she squirmed before he told her, “Stay still.”

She was so soft across his lap this time, and they had as long as she wished to indulge. He gave a solid swat to either cheek to begin warming her up, starting low, just above the crease of her thighs. After a half dozen of those to either side, she was humming happily. He gave her a harder slap, making her flinch a bit.

“How do you feel about having other parts of yourself spanked?” he asked, punctuating his question with a sharp slap to the other cheek.

“Mm!” she grunted in response to the strike.

He gave her another series of hard spanks - two on either side of her ass in quick succession, darkening the lovely red flush that had begun to color her skin. They drew a sweet whine from her.

“Thighs, pussy, breasts?” Ian ran a soothing hand over her bottom, enjoying the warmth that was beginning to radiate from it.

“Good. Good, good,” Belle repeated, feeling her thoughts begin to fog over and trying to resist it for a while longer. “I feel good about it, Sir.”

He slid a hand between her legs. If reasoning followed from their previous encounters, she should be more than wet enough for what he intended. Ian smiled, finding that his fingertips slipped easily into her. She attempted to push her hips back as he took his fingers from her, and he held her more firmly in place with his hand between her shoulderblades.

“I won’t tell you again to stay still,” he warned, holding her there for another moment before taking his hand away.

Belle watched as best she could while he took the panties she’d given him and wound them tightly around his middle two fingers. He nudged her thighs a little farther apart and she understood what he meant to do. She had to force herself to obey him and not shift her hips eagerly back again.

He pushed her panties into her along with his fingers, holding them there while she clenched around him. Ian heard her breath shudder before it evened out again. He slid his fingers out, leaving the panties inside, and gave her ass another pair of sharp spanks. She moaned, but she didn’t squirm, and he rewarded her by moving his hand between her legs again, stroking down and over her clit. Her moan quickly turned into a needy whine. More and more, he was glad that he could take his time with her tonight.

Ian stroked her until her spine began to bow with the pleasure of it. He took his hand away and gave it back in the form of a hard slap low on her bottom, catching both cheeks at once, and he had to admit to enjoying the squeak he got out of her as a result. She’d wanted him to leave a lasting impression, wanted him to make her cry. It was time to work on that.

She began to grimace a bit as he spanked her harder, her eyes squeezing shut and her nose wrinkling, and she gave him a soft grunt with each slap he gave her. He watched as the redness across her pretty little ass spread and deepened further. After a dozen or so, he broke the rhythm he’d set, giving her a pair of particularly hard, cracking strikes on one cheek and then the other, physically shaking her with the intensity of them.

Belle sucked in a squeaking gasp. She’d been doing well, enjoying the way the heat and the stinging built. His last slaps had sent her over an edge, though. Her bottom _seared_ and tears sprang to her eyes, and before she knew it, one of her hands had flown out from under the pillow to protect her ass on instinct. Ian grabbed it before she could take it back.

“What did I say?” he said quietly, his tone low. “Didn’t I tell you to be still? Twice?”

She shivered. “Yes, Sir.”

He hummed shortly, and she felt him lean closer to her. “We talked about how I don’t like to repeat myself, didn’t we?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said. The way he spoke to her made her head spin. 

“Give me your other hand, too,” Ian told her. 

She pulled her free hand from beneath the pillow and held it behind her. He took it as he had the other, holding it for a moment before arranging them so that her arms rested one just above the other on her lower back, lining her wrists up. With one hand, he pulled the knot from his tie and slid the length of silk out of his collar. He wound the wider part around her wrists a few times, then wrapped the thinner end the opposite way, around the fabric and between her arms, to form improvised cuffs.

“All right?” he asked her softly, running a fingertip around the edge of the fabric to make certain it didn’t bite into her too much.

“Yes, yes, yes…” The sound behind her words was stolen by trembling and her dry throat. She swallowed hard and tried again. “Yes, sir.”

She tested her binding. It didn’t give. Oh, God, it felt so much better immediately, allowing her to stop worrying about her hands getting in the way again. Belle _always_ loved a spanking, but it felt thrillingly new at his hands. She was happy knowing that he was enjoying it, too, if it was any indication just how hard he was getting against her stomach. She desperately hoped that he left marks this time, and a smarting backside that would last her more than a day. 

Ian guided her legs a bit farther open, ready to add more sensation for her. Before using his fingers on her again, however, his eyes were drawn to the contrast of her ass so near the pale skin of her thighs. He ran his hand along the inside of one. The flesh there was far cooler than her bottom, and so tender. 

Drawing his hand back at a good angle, he brought it down on the inside of her right thigh. The left was more difficult in their respective positions; he didn’t feel that he had the proper contact with it, but she responded all the same. He alternated another swat to either of her thighs, making her feet flex and her stomach tighten against his lap. Ian grinned and gave her another pair of hard slaps to the sensitive skin. Her legs shook, and he could tell how badly she wanted to press them closed. Ordinarily, he would have seen how far he could push that. Tonight, though, he wanted to give her what she asked for.

He drew his hand up the inside of her thigh, appreciating her little twitch when he crossed his own handprint there, and cupped his hand between her legs for a moment before sliding his middle fingers into her again. Belle made a small sound of interest as he found her panties inside with his fingertips. He turned his hand, he pressed his thumb alongside her clitoris and curled his fingers downward to stroke firmly toward her abdomen.

“Are you paying attention?” he asked, rubbing the pad of his thumb against her a bit and enjoying the way she struggled to keep still.

“Yes, Sir,” she breathed, feeling as though she had to make an effort to keep her head connected to her body.

“You’re going to ask before you come,” he told her. He stroked closer to her clit, drawing a soft groan from her. “Do you understand?”

She nodded before she got her words out. “Yes, Sir. Ask before I come.”

Ian continued stroking her inside and out, listening to her sounds and increased breathlessness. Eventually, she couldn’t help tilting her hips back into the motion of his hand, and he waited for her to ask.

It took her just a moment longer than he expected for her to say, “Please, Sir, I need to come?”

“Not yet.” He pulled his fingers from her as soon as she spoke, and she whined in frustration.

He gave her ass a couple of slaps to either cheek, then petted her until her breathing slowed, waiting for some of the tension of not being allowed her orgasm to dissipate. When she’d somewhat relaxed, he moved his hand into the same position between her legs, slipping his fingers back into her. Belle sighed and sniffled softly, tucking her face closer to her shoulder on the pillow as he began working her higher again.

Her breaths turned into quiet, not quite whines as he brought her close. He watched as her hips tilted and her back began to arch, and she didn’t make it as long this time.

“Please, I need to come, please!”

Ian took his hand away and she cried out indignantly at the loss of his fingers. Her hands behind her tightened into small fists, and she pressed her face into the pillow.

“You missed something, there,” he told her.

“Sir,” she said, muffled before turning her head to look back at him again. _“Sir,_ please-”

He clucked his tongue. “It’s too late now. Perhaps next time, hm?”

She huffed out a breath, and then sucked one right back in when he gave her a hard, glancing slap square at the bottom of her ass, allowing her no time to cool off. Between denial and a bit more pain, he knew he could bring tears.

Ian spanked her _hard,_ the intensity of it making his own hand burn. He went back and forth, a few strikes to one cheek and an equal number to the other, not letting up. They were good, solid slaps, with no reprieve to soothe her or let the sting dissipate in between, and he fully meant to let the pain build until she broke.

Belle began to cry in earnest. They were silent tears, at first, squeezed out of eyes clenched shut. Then she started to shake, drawing trembling breaths, and her tears turned into a steady stream. She whimpered with each strike he gave her until the sound turned into one long, satisfying keen. It finally turned into a deep, hiccupping cry, and she felt _so light,_ as if she’d float right off if Ian weren’t holding her down across his lap.

Immediately after the last pair of spanks to her ass, Ian ran his fingers down through her pussy. She was deliciously wet, and he felt himself become harder in response to the slip of her against his skin. He stroked all the way from front to back twice before he slid his hand down, resting his forearm between her thighs and beginning to glide his fingertips along either side of her clit. The hand he’d kept between her shoulderblades, holding her in place, he slid along her spine until he rested his arm down the middle of her back. He curled his hand downward, feeling the heat of her spanked ass against the inside of his arm as he hooked his fingers into her cunt from behind.

The effect was one more about pressure and stretch than depth or thrusting, but she seemed to enjoy it. Ian rubbed alongside her clit a bit more quickly. She whined and sniffled, rocking her hips into the motion in spite of a few leftover tears. He tightened the curl of his fingers inside her and she gave him a moan in return. 

Belle’s breathing quickened again, and he felt her arching beneath his arm. He waited anxiously for her to ask.

“Please,” she gasped, her voice thin and trembling, “please, sir, _please, please…”_

That was enough for him. “Go on, come for me, sweetheart.”

Ian felt her tense against him, felt her clench around his fingers, shudders running through her. She buried her face in the pillow, groaning. It was a beautiful orgasm from his perspective, and he drew it out for her as long as he could, only moving his hands away as it passed and she went limp.

He loosened his tie from around her wrists, unwinding it and holding her arms where they were until he’d dropped it aside. “Belle?” he said, hoping to see how aware she was.

She turned her head so that her cheek rested on the pillow again, and he could see how glazed over her eyes were. Her face was flushed bright pink and she was well out of it. Ian guided her arms gently away from her back, resting them on the sofa cushion to either side of her head until she could move them where she wanted them.

Ian petted her, rubbing slowly up and down her back. “Belle,” he called gently to her. “All right, darling? Time to come back.”

She brought her arms in, tucking them beneath her before echoing, “All right.”

“I need a bit more than that,” he told her. “Talk to me.”

It took her a minute, but she shifted her eyes toward him. “My butt hurts.”

“Mm, it ought to.” He rubbed up over her shoulder beneath her dress, and she sighed. “What kind of hurt? Good? Too much?”

“Good hurt. Good, good…” Belle closed her eyes. It still hurt, burning down deep, and it felt wonderful. She tried to decide whether she wanted to sit up, but that much movement seemed unattainable. Even turning onto her side was too far to move right now. Lying across Ian’s lap felt just right, and he _was_ petting her, so she decided that he must not mind it too much.

“How do you feel, aside from your arse?” he asked.

The only problem was that he kept bringing her more and more down from that light and floaty place she was trying to hold onto.

“Good,” she said again, and she knew the smile she gave him was probably more or less drunk, but she couldn’t find it in her to care about that. “Good all over.”

Ian gave her a few minutes, rubbing more firmly in the small of her back before he nudged her again. “Why don’t you sit up with me? I’ll help you.”

She made a reluctant sound, but she pulled a hand out from under her and held it out for him. Ian tugged at her until he had her sitting up in his lap in a position that kept pressure off her backside. She curled herself against him, resting her head on his shoulder, and he pulled the soft, gray fleece throw down from the back of the sofa to wrap around her. 

“You did so well,” Ian told her, wrapping his arms around her, too. He held her close, and she seemed to melt into him. “You did _so_ well, sweetheart.”

His endearment gave her such a happy little thrill. Belle was unprepared for the way it felt in her current state, and she turned her face to tuck it against his shoulder as tears surfaced again. Ian’s arms tightened around her and he brought his hand up, cradling her cheek in his palm.

“I’m all right,” she murmured before he could ask.

He wasn’t sure how long he held her. The peace and comfort of it affected him, though, and he had no desire to move. He listened as Belle’s breathing evened out, suspecting more than once that she might have fallen asleep before she made some small movement to tell him otherwise.

“We need to get you cleaned up,” he told her, giving her back a pat. “Do you feel like sitting by yourself for a moment?”

From the sound she made, he thought she might protest, but she leaned away enough to look at him and nodded. Ian eased her from his lap to sit next to him.

“I’m only going to the kitchen and back,” he said as he shifted up to the edge of the sofa, remembering how she’d clung to him in the restaurant.

Belle pulled the throw closer around herself to keep from reaching for him. As much as she didn’t want him to leave her alone for even a moment, she knew she needed a little washing up, and she was determined to wait patiently for him to come back.

Ian retrieved the bottle of water he’d set in the freezer before dinner, squeezing and shaking it to break up the layer of ice inside. On the way back to the living room, he felt an oddly cool sensation and looked down, finding a damp spot on his trouser leg just where Belle had lain on him. If it had come from anywhere else, it might have bothered him. It would dry clean, though, and he quite adored how easily and thoroughly she got wet.

“Here. Drink,” he said as he broke the seal on the bottle and handed it to her. He stood there until she had a sip of the icy water. “Where are your linens?”

“Laundry basket next to the bed,” she told him sheepishly. “Haven’t folded them yet.”

Ian reached out, touching her cheek again. “I’m going to get a couple of cloths. All right?”

Belle nodded, but she wished he’d just sit down and stay still with her again. She took another sip of water as he disappeared into her bedroom. He was gone for only a minute or two, returning with a hand towel over his shoulder and a folded washcloth in each hand. He sat down on the coffee table right in front of her and set the cloths next to him, laying the hand towel open on the floor beside his feet.

“Sit forward,” he said as he reached out to pat her knee.

She slouched down on the sofa, catching on, and hissed a breath in through her teeth at the way her bottom stung. She’d almost forgotten that detail, but he hadn’t. Ian pushed her dress up and slid his fingers into her to catch the edge of her panties, pulling them slowly out. She brought the edge of the fleece up over her mouth to hide her smile. It was a peculiar feeling. He dropped the soaking wet twist of cotton onto the towel, then took the warm, wet cloth he’d brought back with him and washed between her legs before discarding it, too. 

Ian took the other washcloth and opened it across his hand, leaning forward to sweep it over one side of her face. It stole her breath for an instant, but it felt so good on her heated cheeks and throat as he continued. The temperature brought her a bit more back to herself.

He moved her hair so that he could stroke the cool cloth over the back of her neck. Belle watched his face, not sure what his expression meant. His features and eyes were soft, attentive, but he didn’t smile. She wanted him to smile at her.

“I’m going to put these in the hamper. I’ll be right back,” he said before stepping away again. 

She knew he’d begun the thing about announcing where he was going because of the way she’d behaved the previous night. She couldn’t find any guilt about it, though. It was comforting, the way he made sure to tell her.

Belle stretched an arm toward him when he came back into the living room, asking him to come back to her, and she was relieved when he sat down on the sofa again. She couldn’t help the nagging little worry that he was going to just leave before she was ready.

There was something else she needed to do, and she thought she had the energy for it now. She curled her legs under her, reaching over to touch the front of his trousers, and moved to take down his zipper.

Ian took her hands in his and lifted them away, bringing them to his mouth so that he could kiss her fingers. “We’ll go there again when I’ve those results to show you.”

Belle pouted a little, but she couldn’t deny that it made her happy for him to be so concerned with her safety. “I went down to the clinic off Main this morning. The nurse there said I’d get my results sometime on Monday.”

“I have an appointment with my doctor for Monday morning,” Ian told her. He held onto her hands, pressing them between his own.

“Good,” she said, leaning against him again. “You know how much I’m looking forward to that, right?”

“I did get that impression. Your hands on my zipper was a clever hint.” The tiniest smirk pulled at one corner of his mouth, and she felt her stomach flip.

Belle smiled up at him. “Well, I’m glad I got my point across.” She ran her fingertip between the edge of his waistcoat and his shirt. “Are you comfortable in that?”

“Very,” he replied, giving her a curious look.

“I can’t imagine being comfy dressed that formally.” Belle suddenly wanted even more to get him out of his suit.

He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s what I’m accustomed to, I suppose,” he said, lifting a hand to draw one of her stray curls through his fingers. “Do you have pajamas or a gown you’d like to change into?”

“Yeah. I did actually put that stuff away.” She pressed her lips together, resolving to have her apartment in some sort of decent order and looking as if she’d moved in properly by the time he came over again.

“Why don’t you go and do that?” Ian suggested.

She had to admit to herself that her dress did feel a bit… lived in, for the evening. Belle waited until he moved his arm from around her to get up. She padded into her bedroom, going to her dresser to pull out a big t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants that had never actually seen a yoga pose, and changed into them as fast as she could. Taking the throw off the end of her bed, she wrapped it back around her. Ian had put it on her, and she felt a need to keep it that way for now.

There was a reminder of the spanking with every movement, and the soreness in her bottom was satisfying. She anticipated it being gratifyingly sensitive and touchy for days. He did seem to know what he was doing.

She sat herself very carefully next to Ian when she went back out, snuggling into his side again for a while longer. It occurred to her that they might turn the TV back on. But the TV was distraction for her, more than anything else, and she didn’t want distraction, so she didn’t mention it.

It was nearly midnight by the time either of them thought to look at a clock. Ian reluctantly admitted to himself that it was time to go. Belle was so lovely to sit with and hold, and he hadn’t had anyone so close for such lengths of time in _years._

“I’m afraid I’ve overstayed by a bit,” he said.

“Not possible,” she protested, looking up at him. “‘Overstayed’ implies that you haven’t been welcome the entire time, when you absolutely have.”

“Still.” He gave her a soft smile. “If you’re feeling better, I should go.”

Belle ducked her head, hiding a frown as she burrowed even closer for a moment. She had to make herself pull away from him.

Ian took his jacket from her work chair and left her the rest of the food he’d brought along, figuring it to be enough to make a couple more dinners for her. That made at least two meals she wouldn’t have out of a frozen box. 

“Oh, wait, wait,” she said, turning to hurry back into her apartment after they’d already made it into the hallway. She grabbed his tie from next to the sofa, folding it as she returned to him. “If you leave it here, it might end up unsalvageable.”

“I doubt you’d do it much harm,” he told her as he tucked it into his pocket. 

“I don’t know - the things I was thinking of doing with it?” She grinned up at him.

Ian couldn’t find a quick reply to that, but the possibilities made his trousers feel a bit too tight again. Her remark did give him an opportunity, though. “I have a rule for you.”

Belle’s face brightened. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Yes, Sir?”

He reached out, catching a hand around the side of her waist to bring her closer. “Between now and the first time I fuck you, you’re not allowed to touch this in a way that gives you pleasure,” he told her, dropping his hand to press his fingers gently between her legs over her thin yoga pants. “Do you understand?”

She nodded for a second before she could get the words out. “Yes, Sir.”

That would make a change in her routine. She almost never went a day without masturbating one way or another. It was one thing if she skipped a day because she was tired or not in the mood, but the thought of being forbidden made her _need_ again right away.

“That doesn’t worry you, does it?” Ian asked with a grin.

Belle hesitated, smiling in answer.

“Maybe it should,” he suggested. “Because I don’t know how long that bans you from getting yourself off.”

She leaned herself to meet him, resting her chest against his. “I can’t promise I’ll be too happy about it, then.”

“I didn’t say you had to be happy about it.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then gave her another chaste brush of his lips over hers.

Belle was dying for a real kiss from him. His lips were always soft and warm when he gave her the little ones that he did, and she needed to feel him claim her in that way, too.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling herself up on her tiptoes. “Thank you,” she said, simply hugging him for a while. “I had a wonderful time.”

Ian’s own hesitation came from his surprise, but he wrapped his arms around her in return, holding her tightly to him. He closed his eyes. He could feel her warmth and her breath on the side of his neck, and her heartbeat thumped evenly against his chest. As long as she stayed, he held her, but she finally slipped her arms away and he let her go.

He was stupid. Absolutely idiotic. Because somehow it hurt to turn away and leave her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( _The Tie That Binds_ has been nominated in the category **Smut, BDSM** in the TEA awards! if you have a tumblr account and you’ve been enjoying my story here, please consider [going over and voting for it](http://theespensonawards.tumblr.com/submits).)
> 
> WARNINGS: Cock worship, intense spanking, consensual crying, and a beginning hint of throat training.

Ian spent much of Sunday with his laptop and a website that Jefferson personally vouched for. It was an entirely different experience from the last time he’d bought anything of the sort. Granted, that had been - well, more years than he cared to admit even to himself. With the internet had come such wonderful innovations as not having to deal with judgmental looks provided by greasy twerps who hardly appeared old enough to work behind the counter of an adult shop.

There were a couple of things he required immediately. When they were set for next-day delivery, he made himself a cup of tea and settled in for a nice, thorough, and rather productive tour of the site’s offerings.

Belle called late Monday evening to ask whether he’d gotten his results, and she’d sounded disappointed when he had to tell her that he hadn’t. He relayed Dr. Whale’s promise of having them to him by the next day. That seemed to mollify her. She’d extracted a promise from him to come over as soon as he had them, and Ian had expected that to be the end of her call. But she went right on with a cheerful and cheeky, “What did you do today, Sir?” and he wound up staying on the phone with her through dinner and right up until she went to bed.

After they’d hung up, he had gone back to his laptop and added a few more things to what would be his next, far larger order. Over the course of their long conversation, Belle had made some remarks that gave him lovely ideas for the future. The guest room he was considering renovations on seemed to have become a given.

~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~

Barely twenty-four hours had passed since Ian told her not to touch herself, and she was having more difficulty with it than she’d anticipated. While they’d been talking on the phone, they somehow got on the subject of sensations. Thud or sting, heat and cold, sharp versus soft. She hadn’t gotten the sense that he’d particularly meant to turn her on; it was more inquisitive, feeling out what she enjoyed. But his _voice_ … 

Belle had been dying to slip a hand into her panties and take the edge off. It would have meant that she could pay more attention to him than what she wanted him to do to her, and she’d have gotten an orgasm out of it. There would have been no downside. Only, he had told her not to.

She’d occupied her hands with a piece of scrap leather and a new set of engravers, using her unspent energy to get a feel for the tools. They talked so long that Ian had practically tucked her in when she went to bed, and she found herself wishing for that, too. 

Masturbation was an almost daily thing for her. Stress, nerves, feeling aroused or just a little needy - her toys were in the middle drawer of her nightstand, and all she had to do was reach in and bring out something guaranteed to give her pleasure for whatever amount of time she wanted. Easy peasy. And that was exactly what she was forbidden from doing. She lay in bed, wiggling her feet beneath the covers while failing to keep herself from thinking of her nice, fully charged favorite vibrator that sat _so_ nearby in the drawer. Level three was just perfect against the side of her clit, and when she kicked it up to level five and pushed it all the way inside before finishing herself off with her fingers…

Belle was left wet, frustrated, and sensing that getting to sleep tonight was going to be impossible. She turned onto her back. The way her ass rubbed against the mattress helped nothing whatsoever. It was one of the best parts of the extended aftermath of a scene, the marks and sensations before everything healed through. The searing heat of Ian’s spanking had faded in hours, for the most part. All that was left after a day lingered at the top of her thigh, just in the crease below her bottom. She reveled in the reminder of it every time she sat down. But just now, it was a reminder of the one thing she wasn’t allowed.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like receiving commands. She wouldn’t have encouraged him to give them if she didn’t, and his first had been expected. That didn’t make it any less frustrating. 

The anticipation would be worth it, she told herself. The next time she saw Ian, he’d be free to do whatever he wanted to her. He wouldn’t have to hold back. It occurred to her that this didn’t necessarily mean anything would relieve her.

She tossed and turned a bit and wished she’d left the TV on in the living room. The apartment building was too quiet. She was accustomed to city sounds lulling her to sleep. What would he do, she wondered, if she called him? He was likely busy, though. Or in bed. The last thing he needed was her pestering him because she couldn’t sleep.

Flopping over onto her other side, Belle wondered if Ian gave her as much thought as she was giving him.

~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~

He took one last book down from the cupboard in the back of the shop and tucked it carefully into the small crate he’d prepared to carry them. There were a half dozen nestled among the padding, each in dire need of love and repair. Ian recalled how Belle lit up when he mentioned them, and he hoped she would enjoy the challenge they presented.

With the books safe in the back seat of his car, all that was left before going over to Belle’s was his quick run by Whale’s office. To make certain he’d be on time, he had closed up shop early - something he hadn’t done in years. It was strange in a nice way, being expected somewhere and having someone look forward to him showing up.

His last stop accomplished, he texted to tell her that he was headed her way. She answered the door so quickly after he rang the bell that he was sure she must have been right there waiting. Belle was all smiles when she met him, and the little blue trapeze dress she wore had him itching to strip it off her as soon as he laid eyes on it.

“The books I promised,” Ian said, making an offering gesture with the box he held, and she stepped aside so he could come in.

Belle wanted her hands on the books, but just then she wanted his hands on her even more.

“Here, put them down anywhere,” she told him.

He set them on one of her moving boxes. She’d have been more embarrassed about the ones still sitting around, but she had unpacked more than half of them since the last time Ian was over. And she’d cleaned, which she was particularly proud of herself for.

“Where are they?” Belle asked as she reached up for the brown leather overnight bag strap that sat on his shoulder. She placed it next to the books. He wouldn’t stay the night, she was pretty sure, so the prospect of whatever he’d brought along made her curiosity burn in the best of ways.

Ian gave her a completely unassuming look. “Where are what?”

“You know what.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you-”

She gave him a huff of excited exasperation. “Ian!”

“Oh, the papers?” he said as though it only just occurred to him, and he began patting down his clothes. “Let’s see, _did_ I remember those?”

Belle took some initiative and began searching him for them. She checked the pockets on his jacket, then slipped her hands into his trouser pockets, appreciating the smirk she found in the corner of his mouth when she looked up at him. She found the papers at last, folded and tucked into his jacket’s breast pocket. Unfolding the pages, she gave them a quick scan for the important bits. He was just fine, as she’d expected.

She tossed the papers aside into the box of books and beamed up at him. Going up onto her toes, she pressed a happy kiss to his cheek. Ian moved to catch his hands at her waist, but the soft fabric of her dress slipped through his fingers as she stepped back again.

Belle was tempted to suck him off right there by the door. She’d been dying for another go at it since the restaurant bathroom, evidenced by an embarrassing number of fantasies. She knew it would be more comfortable for both of them, though, if he were sitting down. Grabbing his hand, she brought him farther into the living room and over to the sofa, urging him to sit and dropping to her knees between his feet. She wanted her mouth on him more than she could _tell_ him. She could show him, though.

He was warm under her hands when she rested them on his thighs to scoot closer. She could see him getting hard, and knowing that he anticipated what she could _finally_ do for him sent a wave of arousal through her.

“Go on,” Ian told her, his voice soft. The back of his fingers touched her cheek, and when she looked up at him, he was smiling down at her. “Do what you’ve been wanting.”

She ran a hand over his crotch, feeling the shape of him through his trousers. His fingers stroked downward, along her jaw, stopping to curl at the side of her neck. His touch was a reassurance, and so was the way he watched her with calm interest. She leaned forward, resting her head in his lap for a moment before rubbing her cheek against him, and she could feel him growing harder in response. He gave a soft groan that sounded restrained. She wanted to draw so much more out of him.

In the wake of Belle’s eagerness for his test results, Ian had expected a blow job something like the hasty and enthusiastic one she’d treated him to before. The attention she gave him instead was a bit flooring. Her nuzzling and affection, the enraptured expression on her face - he had never experienced anything like her. He couldn’t imagine anyone she chose not doing everything humanly possible to make her happy.

Turning her head, she brushed her open mouth along the thick line his cock made beneath the black fabric, making it twitch. She brought her hands up again to slip his belt open and undo the button underneath, taking his zipper easily down and laying open the front of his trousers. He caught a glimpse of her tongue as the tip peeked out to wet her lips. God, the way she was going, he thought it might take every ounce of his self-control to not come before she so much as had him in her hand.

Belle curled her fingertips over the edge of his boxers’ waistband and looked up at him through her lashes. “Down?” she asked.

He was fairly certain he couldn’t have denied her in that moment if he’d wanted to. With a hand on the sofa arm, he raised up enough to help her get them out from under him.

Sitting back on her heels, Belle pulled his clothes down. She caught a glimpse of some scarring on his right leg before returning her eyes to his cock where it curved up against his abdomen, over the tails of his dark blue dress shirt. Her mouth absolutely watered at the sight of it. She’d seen it before, the once, but she hadn’t had the time to appreciate his anatomy the way she’d really wanted. 

She moved closer to him again, her knees on his trousers where they gathered at his ankles. When she’d settled herself between his thighs, Ian reached out once more to touch her. He curled his hand against the back of her upper arm, his thumb stroking over the bare skin. Belle was struck again with how comforting it felt. She wrapped a hand loosely around his cock, bringing him toward her so that she could rub her cheek against him. His foreskin was soft surrounding his erection, and he was _so_ warm. Easing his foreskin back, she pressed her lips to the head, following with a string of kisses down the shaft. He was nice and long, and the width she wrapped her hand around made her ache to have him inside her.

Belle tilted her head to one side and held him so that she could lick a long stripe from base to tip, and Ian gave her a quiet, broken sigh in response. The sound urged her on. She gave the head another kiss right over the slit before licking it firmly with the flat of her tongue. A bead of pre-come welled up as she watched. She darted her tongue out to lick it away. The taste of it made her pussy throb, and every thought that wasn’t about sucking his cock was gone.

She took the head into her mouth and Ian’s fingers tightened against her arm, his other hand coming up to pet her hair over her temple. The warmth of his hand and the way his fingers moved had her struggling to keep herself aware. She couldn’t let herself go there yet. After a few seconds, she pulled off with a soft, wet _pop,_ then went back for more. 

Going carefully, conscious of every bob of her head, she gradually took more of his length. He didn’t like it when she gagged, she remembered. She made up for the part she couldn’t take by stroking him with her hand in rhythm with her sucking. Ian squeezed her arm, and his hand curled into her hair, and she knew that she was doing well. 

“There you go,” he said, and his breath stuttered. “There you go, sweetheart. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? A cock in your mouth?”

Belle pressed her thighs together against the surge of need that pulsed between them. It was a thrill, knowing that she made him feel good, and the way he responded only made her more eager to please him.

She bobbed her head more quickly. His hips jerked as he groaned deep in his throat, and she felt the muscles in his legs tense. After a hard suck at the head, she took him as far as she could. Ian’s grip on her hair tightened just shy of painful and he spurted over the back of her tongue, filling her mouth around himself. Belle stroked her tongue hard against the vein on the underside, delighting in the growl that he made with the last twitches of his orgasm. She pulled back a bit and swallowed the come he’d given her, then went on sucking greedily until she felt she’d gotten everything. 

Relaxing with her bottom on her heels, she leaned her cheek against his thigh, still holding his cock and giving it the occasional brush against her cheek and lips while he softened. He let go of her hair and simply petted her.

“The sweetest little come slut, aren’t you?” he said, still catching his breath.

If there’d been any doubt that she was soaking wet, it was gone. Belle’s face heated, and the warm look he gave her made her squirm. She turned to nuzzle against his thigh.

“Get up,” Ian told her, his voice kind but clear with the expectation of obedience.

She braced herself with hands on his knees and got to her feet, taking a wobbly step back. His hand, still on her arm, steadied her. Ian stood when she gave him room, pulling his clothes up and tucking his shirt in all the way around. She reached for his trousers and shook her head.

“Wait, no,” Belle said, and their hands tangled together as she tried to interrupt him buttoning up. “You were going to- fuck me?”

He tilted his head at her. “When did I say that?”

“You- I-” she stammered. “I thought-”

“No. Not yet,” he told her gently.

Belle made a petulant, indignant little sound as she let go of his hands, and he’d have sworn she stopped just short of stamping her foot. “But you got your results.”

He raised an eyebrow in warning at her protest, pulling up his zipper.

She closed her mouth so hard that her teeth clicked together. “Yes, Sir.”

“That’s not to say we’re done,” he said as he took off his jacket. He folded it longways and laid it over the back of her sofa, out of the way. “Far from it. I have a surprise or two for you.”

That seemed to brighten her mood again. “A surprise?”

He pointed to the moving box near the door. “Get my bag.”

Ian was settled on the sofa again when she returned with the overnight bag. He held a hand out to take it, but she set it down next to him and placed herself on his lap, curling her legs up and snuggling in.

“Presumptuous,” he teased, giving her hip a sharp pat before wrapping his arm around her. 

Sliding open the zipper along the top of the bag, he reached inside and brought out something long and slender, wrapped diagonally in a full size handkerchief. It was delightfully obvious what he had inside. Ian let the handkerchief fall open and she clapped a hand over her giggle. 

The dildo that he handed her was made of fuchsia silicone and double ended, and so long that holding it in her hand, she could flop it past her elbow. It was a little firm, though, and when she wrapped her hand around it, she could tell right away that it was very close to Ian’s width. Her immediate thought was how it might feel inside her. The second reminded her that she wasn’t allowed.

“It’s brand new, and cleaned this morning. But it’s been in the bag all day,” he told her. “Perhaps you ought to give it another wash.”

Belle slipped away from his lap and hurried off to the bathroom to wash the dildo with her own toy cleaning solution. She ran her hands down it as she rinsed it under the tap. There was a slender, wavy ‘vein’ down one side, and one end was slightly bigger than the other. It was the larger end, the one with a pair of ripples below the head, that felt like Ian’s size. Playing with it did nothing to help either the situation in her panties or in her head. She ran her hands under cold water and patted them against her cheeks before toweling everything dry and heading back into the living room.

“Now, what are we doing with this?” She took back her spot on his lap, making herself comfortable with a wriggle.

“This is to help with throat training,” he said as he put his arm around her again. “You’re going to work on getting rid of your gag reflex.”

“Are you saying my blow jobs aren’t good enough?” Belle asked, her tone light and joking, but she didn’t quite look at him. She rolled the larger end against her palm.

With his fingertips at her chin, he turned her face gently toward him. “No. I’m saying that I see an opportunity to train you in something. That’s all.”

She met his gaze, almost tentative. “So I was okay?”

“Please trust me when I tell you that your blow jobs are… spectacular,” Ian said with a grin and a hungry look in his eyes.

Her bottom shifted happily in his lap in response to his compliment. 

“Belle, do you _like_ gagging?” he asked, letting his arm rest across her knees.

“Well, no…”

“Do you want to get rid of the reflex?”

She let one head of the dildo wobble. “It’d be nice, yeah.”

“All right, then. For now, your new toy is for this end only,” Ian told her, raising a finger to her lips. 

She opened them and he slid his finger inside, stroking down the center of her tongue. Belle closed her mouth around him, sucking, and there was no mistaking the reaction she felt against the back of her thigh. She licked her lips when he withdrew. Holding his first three fingers out together, his thumb and pinky held separate from them, Ian made it clear that he meant to do the same again.

“Breathe and relax,” he told her. “I’m not going to stick them right down your throat.”

With a nod, she opened her mouth wider. She closed her eyes when his fingers slid in. They touched her tongue and she did as he instructed - she made her mouth and throat relax, breathing evenly. She trusted him. Implicitly. And the entire idea of being trained by him excited her. It still made her a bit anxious, though, feeling his expectations and beginning.

She reminded herself that it was like restoring a book. There were steps and progress went slowly. It didn’t happen all in one go. He wasn’t expecting her to take anything down her throat tonight.

Ian’s fingers were careful in her mouth, moving slowly farther, easing off and going back in at a steady pace. He finally touched _just_ too far past the back of her tongue and she felt her stomach tense, her throat convulsing in protest. He pulled away immediately.

“Sorry,” she apologized as soon as she could speak. “I didn’t mean to-”

“No, I’m sorry. Too much, there,” he said, and he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. “You did so well.”

She smiled, leaning into his shoulder. His praise made a lovely warmth bloom in her chest. 

He wiped his hand on the handkerchief still laying over the top of his bag. “We’ll try the toy next, hm? Start with the smaller end. You’ll be controlling it this time.”

“Now?” she asked.

“Now.” He laced his fingers together, holding her in the circle of his arms. “Take it as far back as you can without gagging and keep it there.”

Belle did as he said. She turned the dildo so that the slightly narrower end of it faced her, and she took the head between her lips, working it in and out of her mouth gradually. She needed to get it good and wet, so it would glide. 

One of Ian’s arms moved from around her. He slid his hand under the very brief skirt of her dress and down the front of her panties. The head of the dildo rubbed against the roof of her mouth and she sucked hard at it, waiting for him to push his fingers into her. His touch was light, though. _So light._ It only made her need worse. 

“Look how wet you are. Just from using your mouth,” he said, his voice pitched low enough to make her toes curl.

She knew just how wet she’d gotten. She was at a point where setting her eyes on Ian was nearly enough to make her soak through her panties, anticipating what he could do to her. 

Belle worked another inch of dildo past her lips. She could taste the newness of the silicone. It wasn’t that the taste was objectionable, but she’d rather have had more of Ian’s cock on her tongue. That was the whole point, though - to get more of him inside her.

“How much do you want tonight?” he asked, letting a fingertip graze down the hood of her clit.

Her eyes squeezed shut and she moaned around the toy filling her mouth. Her desperation would beg him to give her everything, all of his fingers, to take him past his wrist. But she knew better than to imagine that she could handle so much.

Sliding the dildo out, she asked him, “More?”

“Back in,” he told her, and she did as he said. “Tell me when you can’t take anymore.”

His fingertips continued to brush along her pussy, and she had to concentrate through the need. Though she wished that she could fit more, she found her limit as the head of the dildo touched the back of her mouth. She patted Ian’s arm in signal to him.

“You’ve taken all you can?” he asked. She nodded. “All right, hold there.”

His hand moved from beneath her dress, and he dried his fingers on the handkerchief before reaching into his bag again. He brought out a small roll of white medical tape and began peeling up the edge. While his attention was on the tape, she pursed her lips around the toy. Ian managed to tear off a narrow strip, and when he looked up at her again, he narrowed his eyes. She couldn’t laugh, but her eyes crinkled with amusement.

“Very cute,” Ian said, and she relaxed her lips again. He put the bit of tape on the toy just where her mouth met it.

Belle moved her hand, giving him control of the dildo, and he slid it out of her mouth. He regretted that he hadn’t thought to bring a tape measure. She’d taken a good three and a half inches, though. It was a respectable amount, seeing as the sensitivity of her gag reflex. 

“I know where this mark is. I want to see a half inch better next time.” He reached up, touching the tip of her nose.

She wiped her hand over her mouth and smiled now that she could. “Yes, Sir. I can do that.”

Ian placed the toy on his handkerchief and set it aside, folding a corner over it. “I have something else for you. Something that’ll be useful to us tonight.”

“I did catch that ‘or two’ when you mentioned surprises.” Leaning, she reached eagerly for the open overnight bag. 

He caught her hand. “We’ll have to work on that impatience at some point, won’t we?” 

“If you have a cure for impatience…” Belle gave him a sassy, challenging look.

“I’m certain I can come up with something.”

“Mm, I’m not so sure I’m impatient. Maybe you’re being slow.”

“I see it’s a good thing I’ve brought what I have,” he said as he pulled a black leather paddle from the bag. The business end was as wide as his hand and just a bit longer, with a handle stitched from the same piece of leather. He gave her knee a pat with it. “Hop up.”

She turned and put a foot on the floor, sliding off his lap again. His hand lingered at her hip until she took a step away. Ian set the paddle on her coffee table and stood, going right for the armchair that sat to the left of her sofa. He dropped the paddle onto the cushion and pulled the chair out to the middle of the floor.

Belle had an idea what he was up to, and it sent a wave of anticipation through her. If Ian was happy when her panties were wet, he was going to be _thrilled_ tonight. 

He beckoned to her with one hand. She felt drawn over, as if the gesture tugged at something in her. When she stood in front of him, he reached for her dress, looking her in the eyes as he pulled it up by the hem that fluttered high around her thighs. She lifted her arms to help him, and he tossed her dress past her onto the sofa.

“I want you over the back, arse in the air,” he said, leaning to take the paddle. 

She stepped between Ian and the armchair, bending over it and resting her hands on the padded arms. She lost sight of him as he stepped directly behind her. 

“Hands down,” he told her. “Head all the way to the cushion.”

She had to reach back to push her hips a little higher onto the chair, leaving her toes barely touching the floor and the muscles of her thighs burning with the stretch. It left her able to rest her head on the cushion, though. She heard him slap the paddle against his palm, and the sound sent electricity tingling along her skin. 

Ian set the paddle on the chair arm in her eyeline. Then she felt his hands, hot and broad, on her hips, and he was close enough that she could feel the warmth of the rest of him, too. His fingers caught in the waistband of her panties and he dragged them down her legs. A second later she saw them fly over to join her dress.

The fantasy of Ian fisting her still ran wild through her mind. She hoped very hard that he had plans for giving her an orgasm or three, because she wasn’t sure she’d survive having that thought in her head without some release. 

“Legs apart a bit.” His hand went between her knees, his fingers curling against the left as she did as she was told. “There you go. That’s enough for now.”

His hand moved away from her, and she could sense him still standing near, but he didn’t speak or move. Just as she began to feel antsy, there was the warmth of him against her hip.

Ian’s hand ran down one of her butt cheeks, sliding between her legs. He patted her pussy. “How has this been? Frustrated? Needy?”

“More like wanty,” she said, turning her head so that she could look back toward him. “But yeah.”

“‘Yeah’?” He raised an eyebrow, leaning so that she could see his expression. “Want to try that again?”

“Yes, Sir,” Belle corrected.

He stroked his fingers wide over her plump outer lips, the indirect stimulation of it making her squirm. “Good. What I told you still stands. You keep your fingers out of it.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said again.

His hand dropped away and she couldn’t help the small noise she made.

“Patience…” He pronounced the word very clearly.

After a moment, she felt him stroke a finger over her rear entrance. Everything between her legs contracted involuntarily at the unexpected touch.

“Do you enjoy anal?” Ian asked.

“I do. I think,” she said, remembering a half second later to add, “Sir.”

“You’ve never had anal sex? Any anal play at all?”

“I have. Just… not much, Sir.”

He hummed. “We’ll correct that, too.”

Belle pressed a broad smile against her forearm. There was so much to look forward to with him that it made her head feel too full right now. She tried to concentrate solely on what he might do to her tonight.

He cupped his palm against her bottom again, running his hand over the soft curve on one side and then the other. It stroked downward, across the still tender crease underneath. The muscles there tensed.

“Such a pretty arse,” Ian purred, rubbing more firmly. “Begs for a spanking, doesn’t it?”

His touch sent a delicious ache across her skin, drawing a moan from her. “Yes, Sir…”

“How hard do you think you can take? As hard as last time?” He gave her ass a slap, jarring her.

For a second she couldn’t think. _More._ She just wanted _more._ It took her a moment to sort her thoughts into something that she could turn into words.

“Same,” she finally said, considering the difference between his hand and a paddle. “About the same?”

Ian took a step over. He leaned down, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “Do we want tears this time?” he asked quietly.

She looked up at him, nibbling at her lip. “Yes, please, Sir.”

“I’m going to warm you up with my hand,” he told her as he moved out of sight. “Let’s see how red I can get this pretty arse tonight.”

There didn’t seem to be a second’s space between his welcome threat and his hand smacking her ass again. He alternated between cheeks, as she expected. It was his usual warmup. Her breath was beginning to feel a little short and her bottom was definitely getting hot by the time he rested his hand in the small of her back. 

“We’re going to go to the paddle. Are you still hearing me?” Ian asked.

Belle nodded for a bit before she could say, “Yes, Sir.”

He rubbed the leather across her warmed backside, and she wasn’t sure whether he was letting her know that it was coming or making her wait. She hardly had time to register that he’d taken the paddle away before it came back with some speed behind it, sending a single, loud _pop_ through the still air of her apartment. She squeaked as much out of surprise as from the sting. There was a second between the first strike and the next, and he fixed the sad fact that one of her cheeks hadn’t yet been paddled. The second sting echoed the first, taking its place as the sensation began to fade.

“You didn’t say ‘hello’ when I arrived,” Ian pointed out. He brought the paddle in hard to meet her left cheek, then her right again. “You started off with demands. You’ve been a tad impolite this evening.”

She gasped against her arm, doing her best to take in what he said. “I’m sorry, Sir, I didn’t mean to be impolite.”

He gave her another pair of sharp strikes. “Do you want to try again?”

“H- hello,” she gasped. Her fingers curled against her palms. “Hello, Sir!”

“And I don’t believe you asked before you jumped into that blow job, did you?” He tapped both ass cheeks at once as though he were doing it thoughtfully.

“No, Sir…”

“So, what should you have done?”

Belle opened her mouth, but he gave her a pair of smacks with the paddle on each side. She groaned loudly through them before she was able to answer. 

“I- I, um-” she stammered through the thickening fog in her head. She licked her lips, swallowing, buying herself another second. “I should’ve- May I suck your cock, Sir?”

“Now _that_ is an excellent answer,” he said, and he gave her a single, hard strike on either side.

Where his hand stung and gave a heated slap once a spanking got to a sufficient intensity, the edge of the leather paddle seemed to almost bite. There was an extra, sharper sting to it that his hand didn’t inflict, and it sent pain singing along her nerves at a higher pitch. 

Tears sprang to her eyes with his next series of strikes. She lost count as they fell on her, searing and sharp, one after another. His target moved from the padding of her ass to the crease that still had a little ache to it. Her breath hitched after one set, and the following ones had tears overflowing across the bridge of her nose and down her temple, soaking away into the cushion. 

It went on, and he gave her a steady stream of two at a time to each side until she cried out. A short squawk of a sound came out of her, and one of her feet lifted from the floor with curled toes, her leg pulling up with a particularly hard strike of the paddle. Ian gave the bottom of her heel a light swat.

“Put that back on the floor,” he ordered.

She flexed her toes, uncurling them, and lowered her foot again. He gave her a number of slower but harder spanks that left her clenching her fists and crying steadily by the time he gave her a break from the constancy of them. She breathed hard and sniffled, and her head felt filled with cotton, almost disconnected from the rest of her. Her ass _hurt,_ blazing hot, and if she could have made her mouth form words, she’d have begged him for more. A soothing hand met her bottom, though, and the petting he gave was just as welcome.

A pair of long fingers slid into her cunt without warning, and there was no hope of muffling the moan that slipped from her throat. He pushed them deep before withdrawing them almost completely, adding another finger and sliding back in, and the sound repeated itself. The rhythm he set, hard and fast, squeezed tears of relief from her. She’d been dying to have something inside her, to touch herself, and now she was glad she’d obeyed him and waited. The feeling of his fingers working in and out of her after even the couple of days she hadn’t been allowed to masturbate was _glorious._

His fingers were gone all at once. He dragged his slick fingertips across the inside of her thigh, leaving behind a quickly cooling trail of wetness that made her shiver. She gave an agonized whimper upon realizing he didn’t mean to bring her off yet.

“Patience,” he chided once more.

Ian’s heart thumped. He looked at Belle, bent over and vulnerable. She was in a blissed daze, out of breath and flushed at both ends. He was breathless, himself, he found. 

It would be easy to give her what she’d been begging him for - to unzip, pull his cock out, and fuck her senseless. It would be easy, and it would feel _so_ good to bury himself in the sweet, eager to please little submissive. He had put it off with the idea that she would see he wasn’t what she wanted on the sooner side of eventually. A few spankings, a blow job or two, and he could keep her happy with his fingers until she realized it. Belle seemed to have other ideas regarding what she wanted, though.

If he did mean to fuck her, he wanted to give her something more than an after work visit. He’d stick with what he told her - not tonight. 

Ian took the paddle where he’d slipped the handle into his trouser pocket. She jumped when he touched her with it, and he rubbed it across her still reddening skin. 

“I don’t believe your bottom is quite red enough yet,” he mused, stepping over so that he could see her properly. He leaned a hand on the chair arm and squatted down so that he could speak quietly to her again. “Do you think you can handle a bit more?”

She had trouble speaking when they got to this point, he knew. He couldn’t expect a verbal answer, but he could bring her back to him enough for some response. He touched her cheek, then reached for her hand where she had them curled tightly under her. She looked at him and he was fairly certain she saw him.

“Belle? Do you want more?” he asked. 

A smile curled in the corner of her mouth and she gave him a lilting, cheerful hum despite the tears still clinging to her eyelashes. 

Ian slipped his hand away from hers and stood, moving behind her again. He gave her ass a light pat with the paddle to tell her what was coming. Drawing his arm back, he gave her a hard, solid strike to either side, and he received a pair of yelps in return. Her hips wiggled as she adjusted her toes on the floor. He didn’t give her time to cool down before adding another cracking spank to each cheek that had her whining and squirming further. 

Resting a splayed hand over the middle of her back, he went on with a steady stream of swats, two at a time to either side, making sure that each connected with a satisfying pop. He felt as she began to cry again, her upper half shaking with it. There was a different sort of trembling that ran through her after a few more strikes. At last she cried out again, more loudly this time, letting go of a stuttering sob.

He reached back to leave the paddle on her coffee table. Soft whimpers floated on her exhales, and her thighs and calves shook visibly. She’d had enough. 

Belle’s pussy glistened with evidence of her arousal, and he slid his middle and ring fingers into her again. Her hips jerked in response, the sudden presence of pleasure through pain drawing a thin moan from her. She felt him move his hand from her back to press open over her belly. He stood close, his body flush against one of her hips and legs, and she could feel the warmth of him.

His fingers simply moved in and out of her for a moment, and for that moment, it was almost enough. The faster and harder he thrust them into her, though, the more she found herself needing. She tried to push higher onto her toes to rock her hips into his hand. The attempt only threatened to pull cramps in the soles of her feet. She couldn’t force speech through the wonderful haze in her head - she would have to trust him to take care of her here as she did with the rest.

Ian’s fingers slid out of her, and she’d have been disappointed if he hadn’t begun massaging the entire length of her slit. His hand glided easily through her wetness from her entrance to her clit over and over again, until the building pleasure overwhelmed the heat in her backside. 

“Go ahead and come when you’re ready,” he said, the rhythm of his strokes changing to concentrate in large circles over her clitoris. “I know you need to. Go on, sweetheart.”

His permission _did something_ to her. The slow build turned into a rush, and before she could prepare herself for it, she was shuddering and gasping her way through the orgasm she had been craving since the last time she’d seen him.

“There you go,” Ian murmured to her.

His touch turned light as he massaged her through the aftershocks. Belle felt heavier, her muscles relaxing and her breathing beginning to calm. He took away the hand at her belly. She felt it move to her mound, cupping there as the fingers of his other hand slid farther back again.

“We’re going to try for one more, all right?” He gave her an affectionate pat. “Do you think you can handle one more?”

She did her best to push her hips back into him again - the only answer she could manage. From above her, he chuckled warmly.

Ian curled his first three fingers into her cunt from behind, grinning to himself when he felt her clench around them. With the hand around her front, he lined up his middle fingers on either side of her clit, beginning to rub it firmly in between. She gave him a lovely whine.

He pushed his fingers as deep into her as their positions allowed, fucking her with short, hard thrusts. Adding a little steel to his voice, he told her, “You don’t come this time until I allow it. This orgasm belongs to _me.”_

Working her with both hands, Ian listened as her whine turned into a groan that renewed with each quickening breath, the sound growing steadily more desperate. The muscles in her lower back tightened under his close watch. He stilled both hands, and she twisted her hips in an attempt to get more. 

Ian waited until she went still, her only movement panting and a plaintive grumble. He started again, building more quickly. He changed the position of his fingers on her clitoris, taking the slick, tiny nub in its hood between the tips of his thumb and forefinger and tugging at it. The response he got from her was instant - a shivering gasp followed by string of sobs that had nothing to do with her previous tears.

“You’re not allowed to come until _I_ say so,” he reminded her. 

He felt her begin to tremble harder against him with the effort of holding back. The idea crossed his mind to see how long he could keep her there without letting her climax, but that was a thought for another time. She’d done well tonight. She deserved her reward.

“All right, darling,” he said, tugging harder at her clit. “Now. Come hard for me.”

Belle gave a shaky, exhausted groan that rose quickly in pitch. Feeling her squeeze around his fingers, he pulled them out of her, giving her ass a couple of sharp slaps that sent her tumbling over the edge he’d kept her teetering on. He moved his hand to continue petting her through her orgasm and past it, until he felt her muscle contractions fade into nothing.

He stepped over so that she could see him, and he went onto one knee near the front of the chair. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he dried his hands and tucked it away again before reaching out to rub her back. She breathed and shook as though she’d run miles.

Ian smiled down at her. “Time to start making your way back to me. Can you do that, Belle?”

Belle blinked slowly, trying to will the haze away. It clung to the inside of her head. She wiggled the hand closest to him, working it from where she’d pinned it - as much as she could do for the moment.

He wrapped his hand around her wrist, leaning to press a kiss to the back of her fingers. “There you are,” he whispered to her. “Give me more than a hand, hm? Have you got a word or two for me yet?”

She didn’t realize how dry her mouth was until she tried to swallow. She managed to shake her head, her cheek rubbing against the chair cushion, and she hummed to tell him she was more or less aware. 

“You did wonderfully, sweetheart.” Ian brushed a kiss over her forehead. 

The feeling of his lips on her skin made her smile. The sweetness of his affection after the paddling he’d treated her to was comforting. 

She waited until her breath was all caught up to say, “Ouch.”

“Yeah? That’s the first word I get, is it?” His hand at her back moved to pet between her shoulderblades. “I just bet you’re feeling some ‘ouch.’”

“Lots of ouch,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Good ouch.”

He grinned at her. “Why don’t we get you up and back to the sofa? Do you think you can get there?”

Belle pulled a face, lifting a foot off the floor and wiggling it. “I guess.”

His hands left her while he stood, but then he was wrapping an arm around her back to help her straighten up from her position over the chair. She leaned into him and he held her snug against his side while she took a few seconds to get her feet used to being flat on the floor again. 

“Okay, sofa,” she said, and he guided her over. She turned and he held her upper arms, but a thought struck her before she sat. “My butt, my butt-”

“You’re all right,” Ian told her, holding onto her before she could get as far as sitting. “Here, on your side.”

She nodded and leaned a knee in the cushion, glad of his help with curling up. He took one of her big throw pillows and slipped it between her and the sofa arm for her to rest against.

“I’m going to fetch a bottle of water for you, and then I’ll gather what we need to clean up,” he told her, running a warm hand over her shoulder before he stepped away.

Belle watched him walk the short distance to her open kitchen. “Bottle in the freezer.”

She heard the water run at the sink before he opened the freezer door. It only took him a moment. He shook the bottle to turn the ice inside into slush on his way back, opening it before he handed it to her. Taking the paddle and dildo from the coffee table, he went on to the bathroom.

Belle took a long sip of water, letting it cool her parched mouth and throat. Ian was so kind and considerate and gentle with her after they played. She wondered if he’d someday just tell her to go to the bathroom and clean herself up, and then leave while she was in the other room. New wore off.

Her thoughts were starting to crowd in on her and she was beginning to feel anxiousness creep up when he came back with a couple of cloths and a hand towel just as he had last time. He sat on the coffee table and put down the towel the same way.

“Let’s see. I believe we can do this without hurting that sore backside,” he said, his dark eyes warming with a smile again. He patted her knee. “Turn this leg so they’re open?”

Belle did as he said, opening her legs and leaving her foot flat on the cushion. She half hid her face in the pillow, covering her smile while he washed the leftover wetness from her pussy and thighs. He discarded the first cloth and shook open the second, and the cold water in it took her breath when he pressed it to her almost feverish cheeks. She shivered as he finished bathing her face with it, and again when he ran the cloth over her flushed neck.

He gathered the linens and asked, “Do you have a pair of pajamas you’d like?”

“There’s a pair of blue ones. Second dresser drawer.” She watched him go again.

Ian came back to her with a pair of blue pajamas scattered with yellow stars, as well as the knitted throw she’d gotten for herself last time. The fact that he remembered gave her the weirdest urge to cry again, and she took a deep breath to will it away. He placed himself once more on the coffee table. She didn’t notice he’d brought panties, too, until he had them webbed open between his hands. 

“You’ll need to sit up to get into them, I’m afraid.” He tilted his head the way she lay, and a corner of his mouth tugged upward in a sympathetic look. 

She set her water on the side table, giving a mutter that she didn’t _really_ mean, and sat carefully up, flinching when her bottom touched the cushion. “Ouch…” she said under her breath, and that she meant.

He got her panties over her feet and brought them up as high as he could while she still sat, at which point he ordered a gentle, “Up.”

Belle stood and, feeling as if her legs were made of jelly, she rested her hands on his shoulders. He slid her panties up and took her pajama pants from where he’d draped them over his thigh.

“Left foot,” he said.

She lifted her foot, feeling a tiny bit silly but more in wonder that he was willing to dress her. While he concentrated on gathering the other leg of her pajamas up, she moved a hand to curl at the back of his neck, letting her fingers thread into his hair. It was warm from laying against his skin, and so soft. She had a sudden need to bury her face in it.

There was a moment where he closed his eyes and didn’t move. His voice was a little huskier when he finally said, “Right foot.”

After he’d gotten her pants up, she adjusted where both they and her panties sat, and he let her sit down again. He undid a couple of buttons at the neck of her pajama top, helping her on with it over her head. 

Ian reached for his overnight bag and she forced away a wave of disappointment. She was warm and cozy, her water and the remote were within reach. She decided that she’d be okay if he had to leave her. 

He moved the bag to the floor and she pulled the collar of her shirt over her mouth to hide the relief in her smile. After sliding his bag to the end of the coffee table, he moved next to her on the sofa. 

“Here,” he said, holding an arm out for her.

Belle let go of her shirt and scooted very gingerly over to lean against him, curling her legs up against his thigh. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to him.

“My good girl,” Ian praised, and he dropped a kiss over her temple. “You’ve been such a good girl tonight.”

She wasn’t sure he knew _how_ happy it made her that he told her so. When she turned to look up at him, he kissed her cheek, then began scattering kisses over the same side of her face until she hiccuped a laugh. She snuggled more securely beneath his arm. There was still a pleasantly woozy feeling in her head that she wanted to hold onto for a while longer. 

Belle distracted herself by playing with his waistcoat buttons as she admitted, “I thought about calling you back last night when I couldn’t get to sleep.”

“You should have,” he told her, giving her a good squeeze.

She shrugged. “I didn’t want to be a bother.”

Ian touched her cheek, turning her face so that she looked at him. “You’re never a bother, Belle.”

His answer created a pleased butterfly in her stomach. _Never a bother._

She sat there quietly for a while, running the fabric of his shirtsleeve between her fingertips and soaking in the closeness of him while he held her. Something nagged in her thoughts, and she wasn’t sure it should, but she couldn’t reason it away in her current fuzzy condition.

“Do you really want me to stop teasing and doing impulsive things?” she asked. “Like my blow job welcome?”

“Of course not. They’re part of the joy of you.”

“When you were talking about me being impolite-”

“Those are only words. Only words meant to arouse you.” He reached up, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. “Do you want me to tone it down? Or stop?”

“No!” she said quickly. “I enjoy it. Very much. Matter of fact, you could go a little harder with words, if you ever happened to feel like it.”

Ian kissed his fingertips and stroked them over the apple of her cheek before putting his arm around her again. “So, ‘slut’ you enjoy, but call you ‘impolite’ and we have a problem, hm?”

She rubbed her face against his waistcoat, smothering a giggle. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun of you,” he patted a hand against her stomach. There was a quiet rumbling that he felt under his palm as well as heard. “I’d intended us to go out to eat, but…”

“Can we just eat here?” Belle asked, looking up at him. “Is that all right?”

He rubbed her side, holding her close. “Anything you want.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Little bit of throat training, mild exhibitionism, mild anal play (butt plug), spanking, rough sex, consensual name calling.

Belle glanced over at her phone where it sat on the corner of her work table. She was ready to ignore it in favor of repairing the interior hinge of the calfskin-covered 1766 edition of _The Vicar of Wakefield_ that Ian had brought to her, but the caller caught her eye. She took off her cotton gloves and picked up.

“What do you think of going into Brunswick?” Ian asked before she’d taken a breath to say hello.

“Brunswick?” She turned her chair away from the table and headed for a more comfortable spot. “What for?”

He made a thoughtful sound, as though he didn’t have something all planned out. She knew better.

“I thought we might get something to eat, visit the museum there…” he suggested.

“A date!” Belle chirped, dropping onto the sofa. “Yeah, of course! Brunswick would be wonderful. Friday? Saturday?”

“Saturday, so we can make a day of it,” he said. “It’s a fair drive.”

She shifted excitedly in her seat at the prospect of spending all day with Ian. The marks still on her backside from the welts that the end of the paddle raised reminded her that they hadn’t completely disappeared. She was enjoying them tremendously, even if all she could do was admire them over her shoulder in the bathroom mirror.

Grabbing a throw pillow and hugging it to her, she settled in for a while. “I happen to like long drives.”

~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~

She started getting ready an hour early, determined that she wouldn’t be caught before she had herself together. As it was, she’d just gotten her shoes on and checked the mirror once more when he texted to tell her that he was on his way. They’d agreed that he would pick her up at noon and his message arrived at ten minutes ’til. Ian was prompt - she had to give him that.

When she opened the door on him, he stood there with a smile in the corner of his mouth and a small bouquet of red damask roses in hand. He offered them to her without a word.

“Hello, Sir,” she greeted with some cheek behind it. She took the flowers and waved him in. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

He closed the door behind him, waiting while she headed into the kitchen. “We’ve never talked about your preference of flowers. I took a chance.”

“I _love_ roses,” Belle assured him, and she buried her nose in them as she ran water into a green glass vase that had been in the cupboard under the sink when she moved in. “Let me get them in water and I’ll be ready to go.”

Her flowers were wrapped with paper just the same color red as the blooms. She removed it carefully, setting it aside to keep before putting the roses into the vase and taking them out to the living room. They’d look nice on the table next to the TV, and she could admire them there.

“All right,” she said after turning the vase one way and then the other. “Ready.”

“Mm, well, not quite.” Ian stepped farther into her apartment.

She grinned, walking over to him and pressing herself close. “Oh? Is there something you need before we go, Sir?”

“There is, as a matter of fact.” His gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips, and she was a half second from dropping to her knees when he went on. “I’d like you to show me how you’ve progressed with your new toy and that pretty mouth of yours.”

Belle gave him a playful huff. “You’re going to make me ruin my lipstick?” 

“You can reapply.” He brought a handkerchief out from his inner breast pocket. 

“You’re very handy with these,” she said, taking it.

Ian watched as she blotted her rosy nude lipstick away until it left no more marks when she pressed the soft linen to her lips. A bit of the color lingered.

“A gentleman always carries one or two,” he told her, taking his handkerchief back when she held it out to him.

“Hang on, it’s in my room,” she said and hurried off.

He looked at the square of fabric in his hand, the folded face of it covered in her lip prints and smudges. With a smile, he tucked it away in his pocket again. 

Fetching the dildo only took Belle a few seconds. She took it from her nightstand drawer and went back to him with it wobbling in her hand, the strip of tape still in place. He waited for her precisely where she’d left him.

“Practicing before you go to sleep?” he asked, a gratified glint in his eyes.

She stopped just within arm’s reach of him. “Well, since my usual bedtime activity has been forbidden…”

Ian gave her a look of faux sympathy, the smile beneath not quite remaining hidden. “Poor darling. You must suffer terribly.”

Belle snorted, bringing the dildo up to her lips. “You don’t know the half of it,” she said, and she slipped the toy’s smaller head into her mouth.

“In as far as you can manage without gagging.” He curled a hand around her arm to bring her closer. “If you’ve been practicing, I should see more disappear, shouldn’t I?”

She wrinkled her nose at him and slid the dildo deeper. It reached the back of her tongue and she closed her eyes, relaxing and breathing slowly. She took it until the toy’s head touched the back of her throat, nudging against her soft palate. It was a week’s worth of work, the small amount more she fit into her mouth. When she was certain she’d taken as much as she could, she tugged at Ian’s jacket sleeve.

Ian placed the tip of his thumb at the spot where her lips met the pink silicone and slid the toy back out. The thin piece of medical tape sat above the new mark by more than a half inch. It was a judgment by eye, but she’d improved at least that much. He carefully peeled the tape up and replaced it.

“You’ve done well. I’m proud of you,” he praised, handing the toy back to her. He gave her a pleased smile and a swat on the backside. “Go see to your lipstick and we’ll be off.”

She licked her lips and rested a hand on his shoulder, raising herself up to kiss his cheek. Her heels made the usual stretch a shorter one. Belle left the dildo on the kitchen counter and took her purse from next to it. She fished her lipstick from the middle pocket, going to the mirror that had been hanging next to the front door for all of twelve hours.

Ian watched the way she held her mouth open as she glided the color over her lips, the way she pressed them together just so, the way she used her fingertip to make certain the edge of her lower lip was perfect. It was tempting to take her up on her offer of ‘something’ before they left. 

“All right,” Belle said, clicking the cap back on and dropping the slim silver tube into her purse. “Ready. Again. How do I look?”

She could almost _feel_ the way his eyes traveled along her body before he said, “Perfect.”

~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~

The museum was buzzing with people. Crowds weren’t Ian’s favorite thing, but Belle was so enraptured by the exhibits that he could hardly mind. While her attention was on the art, his attention was on her. 

She took everything in wholeheartedly, gazing wide-eyed at the art and being sure to read every word of the accompanying labels. More than once she reached for his hand to urge him along to the next display. It was late in the afternoon when they left a collection of Assyrian relief sculptures and walked into a guided tour that had paused to listen to the docent speak on an exhibit revolving around Egypt under Greco-Roman rule. Belle stopped near the back of the group to listen. 

He stood next to her, watching the delight on her face as the docent began by talking about the Ptolemies. When she looked down at the open brochure she’d carried through the museum, Ian let his arm drop behind her. He slipped his hand carefully beneath the back of her pleated skirt, giving her ass a pinch just in the crease below her left cheek.

Belle’s startled yelp echoed through the exhibition room. The entire tour group looked back. Even Ian gave her a look of concern, as though he hadn’t just pinched the sorest part of her backside. She felt her face go hot as she blushed under the sudden scrutiny of the group of strangers. It had an entirely different effect between her legs. 

Everyone finally turned their attention back to the docent when he cleared his throat. Pressing her lips together, she closed the couple of inches between herself and Ian, leaning into his side. He lifted the hand that had given her a pinch to brush her hair over her bare shoulder, then settled it at the small of her back.

“A little warning would have been nice,” she whispered, casting a sidelong look up at him along with a grin. “Sir.”

His hand continued downward, sneaking under the hem of her skirt again. “That would have defeated the purpose.”

“And the purpose was…?”

“I wanted to hear you squeak.”

Ian’s fingers were gentle this time, stroking along where her thigh met her bottom, his palm on her ass cheek. The pressure of his touch was enough to bring the fading ache of his paddling back to the surface, and she felt the deep warmth that came with getting wet pulse through her. Belle turned her head to hide her face against his shoulder. Her expression would give them both away if anyone happened to look at her again. 

He cupped his hand, pressing his fingers between her cheeks over her panties, and she had to hold her breath to keep herself from making another disruptive noise. The tour group moved on, leaving them behind. 

“What do you want to see next?” he asked, giving her a couple of affectionate pats before moving to put his arm around her waist.

Belle turned her face up to him with the most unassuming smile. “What I want to see isn’t in the museum.”

He clucked his tongue, following when she slipped away from him to have a closer look at one of the displays. “Now, now. Dessert comes after dinner.”

“Oh, do I?” She circled to the opposite side of the glass case, looking at him through her lashes.

“If you behave yourself,” he said, and he did his best to give her a stern look in return for her flirtation. 

The spin she made as she turned to walk through to the next room fanned the back of her skirt enough that he caught a glimpse of pale bruises peeking from below the edge of her panties. Her white stockings had a hint of ruffle around the tops, and his fingers rubbed together with the urge to yank them down. He followed her into the European painting exhibit.

Belle hadn’t been sure what to expect as far as dinner went. Ian had kept her guessing, fielding her questions and guesses with sounds and vague non-answers. It was a surprise when he took them to a fancy Asian fusion place. She’d taken him to be more of an Italian, French, Greek restaurant kind of guy after their first date. He kept her on her toes. 

She wasn’t sure what to order once they’d been seated and provided menus. Everything looked delicious, but she had herself a bit distracted. After receiving ‘I’m not sure’ as an answer a few times, Ian ordered the chef’s blind tasting menu for them both.

Their dinner turned out to be an early one. The restaurant was sparse with customers, and the area they sat in was near empty. While they waited for their food to arrive, Belle changed seats, moving to sit next to him rather than across the table. She didn’t have an interest in sitting on the opposite side and doing no more than playing footsie through the meal. Ian had no response to her move. He didn’t ask why or give her so much as a curious look. What he did react to was her hand sliding over his thigh and into his lap.

He cast a warning look over at her. “Are you sure you want to do that? Here?”

Belle simply grinned and stroked over his cock, feeling it thicken under her hand.

“You’ve already earned yourself a spanking,” Ian told her, leaning to speak near her ear. “The longer your hand stays where it is, the worse it’ll be.”

Her smile only broadened. He’d forgotten how difficult it was to deter a masochist when punishment was so sought after. 

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, stilling her hand. “If you make me come in my trousers, you won’t have an orgasm for a solid month.”

Belle’s eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t,” she said, that daring grin of hers faltering. 

“I guarantee you, I would.” He let go of her, allowing her to make the choice.

She didn’t move for a moment, and he could see her considering whether a month without being allowed to come was worth it. Her hand finally returned to her own lap. 

Ian took a sip of his iced tea, aware of how she shifted restlessly in her seat. “That was a wise decision.”

“That was a decision made out of self-preservation,” she said, running her fingertips down the condensation on her glass. She gave him a wry smile. “Sir.”

“You’d prefer being spanked raw to missing an orgasm.” There was no question to it. He’d quickly learned as much about her. 

Belle turned in her chair so that her knees nudged up against his thigh. She thought she could get away with _that_ without getting into trouble. “Absolutely. I mean, the ideal is getting a good helping of both. Close together, at the same time, something like that.”

“You’re incorrigible.” He shook his head, but there was a smile on his face. 

Belle rested her hands side by side on his arm and leaned to prop her chin on his shoulder. “It’s a good thing I have you to look after me.”

~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~

They were on their way back when Belle made another attempt. She tucked her seatbelt behind her and leaned over, trying for his trouser button. The seats in his car were nice and close - she could easily have done what she had on her mind if he hadn’t stopped her from it.

“Hands in _your_ lap,” Ian told her patiently. “And fix your safety belt.”

She sighed so loudly that he had no choice but hear it, pouting as she sat back and brought the belt across her chest again.

“Belle,” he said, slowing as the car in front of him turned, “why am I not allowing you to?”

“Because you _can,”_ she replied sullenly.

“No. Tell me, why am I not allowing you to?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought it would be fun. For both of us.”

“Do you text while you drive?” he asked.

“Huh? No. Of course not. It’s distracting. There’s a reason there are ads telling people not to… Oh.” Her posture relaxed, the sulk mostly leaving her. “All right, you have a point.”

“Having your mouth on my cock is well past distracting.” He reached over to pat her knee before returning his hand to the wheel. “When I ask you not to do something, there’s usually a reason for it.”

“Usually?” Belle gave him an amused look. 

He flashed her a smirk in return. “Well. There’s the occasional order during a scene for thrills.”

She knew by the presence of the overnight bag in the back seat that Ian had some ideas about how the rest of their evening might go. After the surprises he’d produced from it the last time they had gotten together, she couldn’t wait to see what he had in mind. Her anticipation made the drive home seem so much longer than their trip in the other direction. 

When he parked in front of the apartment building, she turned and took the bag herself before he made it around to her door. Ian raised an eyebrow when he saw that she held it in her lap.

“We’re going to get to that patience training,” he said, holding his hand out in expectation of hers.

“What?” she asked in an impressive feigning of utter innocence. “I thought I’d help.”

Belle felt the reassuring press of Ian’s hand in the small of her back as they made their way up the steps and through the hallway leading to her apartment. They were just at her door when he grabbed her arm, turning her around to face him. He curled a hand at the nape of her neck and brought the other up to hold her jaw cradled sternly in the space between his thumb and forefinger, backing her up against the wall and sending her heart pounding. She dropped his bag with a thump, only hanging onto her purse because the strap was on her shoulder. 

The longer he held her there, staring down at her, the more breathless she felt. He moved his thumb to rest at the corner of her mouth and quite purposefully dragged it across, smearing her lipstick over her cheek in a long streak.

Ian held her jaw again, and she tried to _will_ him to kiss her. If he didn’t, if he kissed her cheek or gave her none at all after the way he held her, she thought she might cry. She could feel it trying to well up. When he leaned in, there was an instant where she thought she could have cried anyway. There was a gentleness there woven into the intensity. He caught her lower lip between his, sucking at it until it felt swollen and oversensitive, and he stopped to look at her before he came back to kiss her hard. 

The pressure of Ian’s mouth on hers was just shy of painful. His kiss was insistent, demanding, and it had her pressing her thighs together as hard as she could. She scrabbled for fistfuls of the front of his jacket, clinging to him as he pushed his tongue into her mouth and the hallway reeled around her. Belle felt as though he were drawing something from her and giving something back all at once. It left her head giddy and swimming and she wanted to give him everything she had in her.

She arched her stomach and hips toward him, away from the wall, and Ian used his body to push her back into it. He wedged his knee between hers. The space he made took away the stimulation she was trying to give herself while keeping his thigh out of reach so that she couldn’t rub against him. 

Ian was nearly as out of breath as she was when he broke the kiss. He held her there, reveling in the needy anticipation in the way she looked at him.

“Into the bedroom,” he told her.

She nodded, the daze in her eyes sharpening up a little, and she drew a soft breath before answering, “Yes, Sir.”

He kept her where she was for a moment longer, waiting to see if she’d begin to turn away from him before he let her go. As he took a half step back, his hands slipped away from her. It took her another second to move. 

Belle had to think much too carefully about the process of getting into her apartment. There was only hope for finding her keys because she had a habit of putting them into her purse’s center pocket. She fumbled them as soon as she had them out. With a glance over her shoulder, she leaned down to pick them up, managing to get the key into the lock and the door open on her second try. 

She did as she was told, heading straight for her bedroom. The front door clicked shut behind her as he came in, and she heard the sound of his footsteps follow her down to her room. She _really_ wished she’d done a better job of making her bed.

Belle felt him when he walked up behind her, warm and almost overshadowing. He took her purse strap from her shoulder and she turned to watch as he stepped over to set it neatly on her dresser, then flipped the switch next to the door. It wasn’t until he set his overnight bag on the floor next to her bed that she realized she’d forgotten it.

“Turn on the lamp,” Ian said when he realized the overhead light wasn’t terribly bright.

The bedside table was home to a small library in itself. She had to navigate between two stacks to turn the lamp’s key. There was no understatement to it when she’d told him how she loved books.

He turned to Belle and reached for her, bringing her closer by her hand, and the way she looked up at him made his stomach flip. The effect she had on him was unsettling and _wonderful_ at the same time, and he had never known anything like it. She made him want to give her anything she asked for. _That_ he could get started on.

Ian tugged her blouse from her waistband, slipping his hands underneath to run them up her sides. He felt her shiver, and she gave him another of those looks. She didn’t have a bra on, but he’d known that when she answered the door. The top she wore bared the lovely shape of her shoulders between a slender strap and a dropped sleeve, and the golden fabric was nearly sheer in the right light. He’d had an almost-view of her breasts for half the day. 

He let her blouse fall to the floor and untied the ribbon bow at one side of her skirt, loosening the lacing there to allow it to slide down her legs to pool around her feet. 

Belle took hold of his jacket again. “What about you, Sir?” 

“What about me?”

“What about your clothes?” She swung her hands a little bit. “You’re still so dressed…”

“We’ll see,” Ian said, and he received precisely the impatient huff that he expected from her.

Belle’s panties clung to her hips with ruffled edging subtle enough not to disturb the pleats of her skirt. He didn’t know whether she’d particularly put thought into dressing for him, but the idea of it was a pleasant one. Her tendency toward ruffles hit a spot he didn’t know he had. Hooking his fingers around the sides of her panties, he dragged them down her thighs. She grinned and wiggled until they fell around her ankles.

He looked at the not inconsiderable wet spot that had soaked through the white cotton. “How long have you been wet?”

“Since you picked me up, Sir,” she said. “Since the dildo.”

Ian leaned in, speaking so close to her cheek that she felt his breath on her skin. “So easy…”

Her cheeks went warm. Belle dropped her gaze to his waistcoat buttons. “Yes, Sir.”

“And you’ve been wet since?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tell me what you want.” A curled finger touched beneath her chin, bringing her eyes back up to meet his. “What has you so wet?”

Her hands found one another and began twisting together against her bare stomach. She answered softly. “You. Sir.”

Ian turned, leaving her standing there with her clothes around her feet, and crossed to the padded stool next to her dresser. Her body seemed to lean in his direction without her meaning to. She admired the neat lines of him, the way he walked, the way he moved as he removed his suit jacket and folded it to place over the stool. He took his time returning.

“Sit down on the bed,” he said on his way back to her.

She tried to carefully get a foot out of her clothes. Her shoe and panties together gave her trouble, but Ian wrapped a hand around her upper arm, balancing her until she’d untangled herself. He brushed her clothes aside with his foot as she sat on the side of her bed with a bounce.

He stood in front of her, holding his hand out. “Shoe,” he clarified when she only looked at him.

Belle let herself fall back to lie on the blanket, smiling up at him, and stuck her leg in the air. With a shake of his head, he took her by the ankle and brought her foot down so that the sole of her stiletto rested against his chest. He stroked his fingers over her instep and began teasing open the pair of tiny buckles that secured her shoe straps. When he had her shoe off and her stocking rolled down, she gave him a wiggle of her toes. 

“You’re going to be a handful tonight, aren’t you?” He gave her foot a pat and let it go, asking for the other.

She held her other foot up in the same manner. “Am I not always, Sir?”

Ian sent this shoe to join the first on the floor. He curled both hands around her calf, running them up toward her knee and past it to the top of her stocking. A smirk curled in the corner of his mouth as he slid a fingertip into the elastic hidden behind the ruffle there. He held it away from her skin, then let it go, snapping sharply it against her thigh. She squawked and laughed, her leg jumping against the tight hold he had on it. 

“I know just how to handle a handful,” he said, going on to strip her stocking off her. He dropped it onto the pile of her clothes and beckoned her with a flick of his hand. “Kneel up. Hands behind you.”

Belle did as he said, moving as quickly as she could onto her knees on the edge of her bed. She placed her hands one over the other in the small of her back, waiting. He looked her up and down before his eyes settled on her chest. All at once she recalled him remarking on how he wanted to spend more time on her breasts, and somehow she felt _more_ naked.

He cupped a hand around the outer curve of her right breast, stroking his thumb over the pale pink halo of her areola. Her nipple tightened into a hard bud with his touch. She caught a glimpse of his tongue as he wet his lips, and she understood what he intended. 

Setting his hands on her waist, he held her where she was, squeezing her between them until she made a soft sound. He leaned forward and gave her nipple a lick, then took it into his mouth, pulling it deep. The heat of his mouth made her need to squirm. He sucked hard at her breast, so hard that it ached, as if he were trying to pull something from her. Belle swayed a bit and groaned softly, feeling her pussy throb in time with his sucking. She curled her fingers into her palms to keep herself from reaching for his hair. 

He moved slowly away, his mouth tugging at her breast before he let go. She missed the feeling immediately, and its absence almost hurt. Ian’s hands flexed tight at her waist again, and he pressed a kiss to the center of her chest as he leaned to provide her left breast with attention. She struggled against the instinct to push herself forward into him. His thumbs pressed firmly into her skin to keep her where he wanted her - the demand behind the gesture made her muscles feel weak.

Ian released her other breast in the same way. He took his mouth and hands from her body and a sound of protest slipped from her. It didn’t bring him back, but she didn’t expect it to. His feet moved though he didn’t step back, and she looked to find him pushing off his shoes. When he went for his waistcoat buttons, her heart began to thump faster. He’d never taken off more than his jacket in front of her.

“Tonight?” Belle asked, a bright smile lighting up across her face. She shifted her weight anxiously from one knee to the other on the mattress. “May I do that, Sir?”

He let his hands fall to rest at her waist again and nodded to her. “Go ahead.”

What she _wanted_ to do was strip him quickly. Her fingers itched to try ripping open buttons. She had a feeling she’d be punished in a way she wouldn’t enjoy, though, if she ruined his clothes. So she reached slowly out to him.

Belle held her lower lip between her teeth as she ran her hands over his sides, trying not to be distracted by the way he stroked up and down her own. Her fingertips skated along the snugly tailored seams. He kept his eyes on her face as she unbuttoned his waistcoat and wiggled his tie loose from its knot. When she finished his shirt buttons, he held his hands up to her, and she fiddled with his cufflinks until she had them worked back through. Ian took them and dropped them into his pocket before she pushed his shirt and waistcoat off his shoulders together. He helped her by shrugging out of them, and his hands cupped against the curves of her hips as she opened his belt, squeezing and kneading and rocking her toward him.

She got his trousers undone and pushed them down with his boxers, and she found that he’d neatened himself underneath. Her smile pulled her lip free. He’d planned everything. She gathered handfuls of the crisp black cotton of his undershirt and lifted it up until he raised his arms to allow her to take it over his head.

Ian was aware that he touched her to keep his mind distracted from the worry that nagged at him as she disassembled him layer by layer. It had been a ridiculous number of years since he’d been naked in front of anyone. He had never been much to look at. Belle somehow had no complaints at all as she took him down to his bare skin. She looked at him and he let her, relieved when her smile not only remained on her face but grew wider. 

He kissed her for a second time, a brush of his lips over hers that had her leaning toward him in an attempt to get more. Ian let her meet him, grazing her lip with his teeth when she kissed him. He lifted a hand, stroking the back of his fingers along the modest curve of her breast before taking hold of her nipple. Pinching it, pulling and lifting, he felt the nub of soft flesh tighten again between his fingertips. He went on until she gave him a sound, savoring the gasp she made against his mouth. The soft puff of complaint she made when he let go was almost as delightful.

“You can sit down,” he told her, and he bent to unzip the bag he’d brought along. “I have something for you.”

Belle sat her bottom on her heels, trying to see what he had before he showed her. The way he leaned blocked her view. She _could_ exercise a few seconds of patience, she decided. It turned out to be worth the wait.

He stood up and held a smallish butt plug out to her, giving her a look that encouraged her to take it. The toy was slim and blue, silicone, and just wider than one of Ian’s fingers. She offered it back to him.

“We don’t have to get into anal play if you don’t want to,” he assured her quietly as he took the small toy from her.

“I want to,” she said with a brazen little smile, her answer quick. “I want you to use all my holes, Sir.”

Ian’s cock ached, he grew so hard in response to her. “On the bed, hands and knees. I want your knees at the edge and your legs wide.”

Belle turned to arrange herself in the right position, looking at him over her shoulder and wagging her backside at him as she spread her knees. 

“Shoulders down to the mattress,” he ordered.

She lowered her top half, folding her arms and laying her head on them. Unable to see him where he stood behind her, she had to _wait,_ anticipating what he was about to do. 

It was colder than she expected when he stroked the tip of the plug between her labia. Ian slipped it easily into her pussy, working it in and out to get it slick. Instead of giving her any amount of satisfaction, though, the narrow width of it only frustrated her more. He glided it through her wetness before sliding it back and back, past her pussy, until he touched her rear entrance. There was a pause before he pressed the tip inside her. He pushed the plug in _so slowly._ The sensation of being filled in a place that wasn’t accustomed to it made her toes curl, and she hummed a long moan from behind closed lips. 

Ian petted her hip as the plug gradually slid inside. The small bulb popped into her, leaving the oblong base snug up against her body. He gave her hip a squeeze and ran his fingers over the toy’s base, pressing a bit, making her moan more loudly.

“There we go, all in.” He watched her toes uncurl and wiggle. “How does that feel?”

She drew a deep breath and sighed it out. “Good. Good, good, Sir…” 

He moved his hand from her hip to the tender inside of her left thigh, rubbing gently down the length of it and back up before giving it a quick, sharp slap. She squeaked, flinching at the unexpected jolt, and Ian caught a lovely sight as her pussy contracted in demand of something.

Resting one hand on the bed so that he could lean closer, he reached to gather her loose curls in his free hand, wrapping them once around to hold them in his fist. He pulled her head back so that she had to look at him. 

“Greedy little cunt, isn’t it?” he said, his voice low, and the lilt of his words made Belle squirm.

She whimpered in answer before managing, “Yes, Sir.”

“I seem to remember telling you that you’d earned a spanking.” His hand tightened in her hair. “Do you remember that?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said again, nodding as well as she could.

“Good. Excellent memory.” He let go, straightening up behind her once more where she couldn’t see him. 

Belle’s head spun as she laid it back down on her arms. He placed one hand on her back and returned the other to her thigh, warm and gentle, petting her, and her skin prickled with anticipation. The feeling grew stronger in the half second that his hand left her skin. It came back in a slap that flashed through her with relief that he’d begun and a need for more. 

Ian spanked her with hard, measured strikes that glanced off at the end, lining the inside of her thigh with heat. He built them without reprieve, layering strike after strike that rippled through her. She held a handful of quilt to her mouth to smother the sounds he wrung from her. It was different than having her ass spanked. The pain grew more quickly, seemed to reach farther. Her body still hummed with it for a moment when he stopped. 

“Let go of the covers,” he said, and she felt him pull on her quilt. “I want to hear you.”

Belle loosened her fingers, letting him take it away. She didn’t often quiet herself, but her quilt had been right there and so easy to grab for comfort.

His hand ran down the length of her spine. “Ready to make the other thigh match?” he asked.

There was a hitch in her breath before she whispered, “More… yes, Sir.”

He didn’t wait long before continuing. Switching hands, he spanked the inside of her right thigh, warming it up with a few good swats before he began giving her more intense strikes. The heat and pain built again under his attentions. She heard herself whine out loud, tears stinging her eyes, and her legs began to shake. The heat didn’t stop in her thighs. It radiated up between her legs, reaching her clitoris in a new wave with every strike he gave her. She could feel her pulse throbbing through her pussy, and she knew if he’d just touch her, if he’d use his fingers, she _knew_ that’s all it would take for her to come.

It didn’t take much longer for him to bring tears enough that they dripped off the end of her nose, and only a few more spanks to break her, turning her whines into a sob. She couldn’t keep up with how many more he gave her. All she could do was feel - the pain from his spanking, her legs shaking, the need between her legs. She was so filled with sensation that she could hardly breathe.

He stopped. She still felt the reverberations of his last strike going through her when his hands settled on her hips, and for a few long moments, she expected him to go ahead and fuck her.

“Belle?” he said, and she turned her head to one side. He patted her hip gently. “Belle, answer.”

She made a sound that amounted to a peep. 

“Do you feel like the plug is going to come out?” he asked her. She shook her head. “Words, Belle. Before we go on, I want words.”

She swallowed, concentrating on making her brain and tongue work together. “No, Sir.”

One of his hands moved from her hip and he gave the toy in her ass a pat, too. “Good.”

He touched her, two fingers splayed and stroking either side of her vulva, not giving her the contact where she was dying for it. She twisted and pushed back, hoping for his fingers to slip. The hand still on her hip flexed there to tighten his hold.

“Stay still,” he warned. “Tell me, how does my slut like to be fucked?”

Belle kept herself as still as she could, but her hidden fingers curled into the quilt. The way he spoke to her did _nothing_ to help clear her head.

“I- it- it- _oh...”_ She bit the inside of her lip, trying to concentrate. “Depends on the- the day, Sir.”

“And today?” he pressed.

“Hard, Sir. Please, hard?” she asked, feeling a hair’s breadth from begging him.

Belle heard him snort a soft laugh before he said, “I more meant position, there.”

When she didn’t answer, he took his hand away, moving his body closer before she could protest over losing his touch. He stroked her pussy again, more heavily, but it didn’t feel as though he were using his fingers. It took her muddled senses a few unbelievable seconds to put together that he was rubbing the head of his cock along her slit.

He asked again, his tone dropping to a snarl, “What position do you want to be fucked in, slut?”

“I don’t care,” she breathed frantically. “Please, I don’t care, Sir. Anything.”

Ian reached forward, taking hold of a handful of her hair and turning her head to one side. “On your back,” he said before letting go. “Turn the right way ’round.”

He watched as she obeyed. She pushed up on her hands and moved nearer the middle of the bed, crawling over the covers as he pulled them back. When she turned and sat down near the headboard, she looked at him with wide eyes. He was relieved to find her present there. Placing a knee on the mattress, he grabbed her ankle and yanked her down to lie on her back, surprising a gasp out of her.

Belle opened her legs around him as he insinuated himself between them. She wanted him to hurry. She _needed_ him inside her. Just as he did with everything else, though, he took his time. 

He leaned over her, positioning himself so that his cock just touched her. She rocked her hips up toward him and got absolutely nothing for the effort. Ian hummed, the sound low and rumbling in his throat, and it was near enough a growl that her eyes almost rolled back. 

“Couldn’t keep your hands off it today, could you?” He moved a little, letting the head bob against her, and reminded her, “You’ve been begging for cock for weeks. Think I’d like to hear a bit more of that.”

“Please, Sir?” she asked, hoping it was enough to get her what she wanted.

He smiled and shook his head. “You can do better than that.”

Belle put her hands on his arms, trying to leverage herself upward. The look on his face said that he was allowing her to try. It didn’t work and he’d known it wouldn’t. With a frustrated grunt, she let her hands fall. She might have accomplished more if she pulled at him with her legs, but she didn’t quite dare go that far. 

“Please? Please, _please,_ Sir?” she begged, patting her hands against the mattress.

His expression grew toothier. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me?” Belle’s voice once more dissolved into a whimper. “Please, fuck me, Sir?”

She felt on the verge of tears again, her need was so intense. When he moved a hand to aim himself, she pulled her legs up, steepling them against his hips. He slid slowly in. In, in, in, until his body pressed into her and he lay on top of her. Her hands fluttered above his shoulders for a second before they settled there, clinging to him. Everything inside her felt full, and opened, and _safe._

Ian held where he was, buried in her and working to keep control of himself. He could feel her clench and release around him inside. He wanted to revel in it, to indulge in her closeness and her heat. It had been _so long_ since he’d been wanted. But she needed him to do more than lie there.

Her hands pulled at his shoulders, trying anxiously to draw him closer. By the time he was ready to move, her right leg steadily trembled against him. He reached back, stroking along her thigh. Belle gave him a pleading look, but it seemed to soothe her. Easing his hips back a bit, Ian used the space to get his hand behind her knee, bringing her leg up onto his shoulder.

Belle’s breath hiccupped when he slid back into her. He pushed himself deeper. Everything, inside and out, she wanted to tell him that he could have her. He met her gaze, and _oh, God,_ she felt as if she were drowning in him. 

Between his cock and the toy he’d placed in her ass, she felt almost too full, and she knew she’d go mad if he didn’t start moving. She heard a strained exhale from him, and she wondered if he were just holding on by a thread, too. At least the thread was in _his_ control. 

“Hard, you said?” He looked down at her with a wolfish grin.

“Yes!” she said almost before he finished asking. “Yes, Sir!”

He pulled out until only the head of his cock nudged at her entrance, and she was left with a feeling of emptiness for the second he waited to thrust back in. The force of it stole her breath. Her fingers curled and uncurled against his skin as he pounded into her. He fucked her in a strong rhythm, the impact of his body jerking hers and rubbing against her spanked thighs, making them sting all over again. 

She wanted to come - she needed to, and the way he drove her on and on, she could feel her orgasm suspended there like a held breath. The need for his permission kept her from it. 

Belle clung harder to him, her fingertips digging into the muscles of his shoulders. One and then the other, he took her hands and held them to the mattress above her head. God, he knew which buttons to push. She arched her belly up against his, rising to meet him, wanting him to take pleasure in her as much as she enjoyed what he did to her. She wanted him to hold her down and take from her, to spread her open, to wring everything he could get from her body, and as if he’d heard her thoughts, he began fucking her harder.

She became dimly aware of an even drumming sound. It took her a while to realize that it was her headboard hitting the wall. Her fingers grasped at his own cuffing her wrists as securely as if she were bound with buckles and leather, and she was glad of the anchor when everything else was sensation after overwhelming sensation. 

Ian had a great deal of experience in holding back, and it was still a close thing, the way Belle responded to him. He had never seen firsthand someone take such joy in submission. She groaned, tilting her head back, her hips shuddering desperately under him. He nipped at her throat and felt her legs tense against him.

“Mm, not yet,” he told her, nipping again nearer the side of her neck. “Don’t you dare.” 

It was delicious, making her wait, stoking her frustration. She made a sound he might have taken for pain if she weren’t trying to wrap her free leg around him. Her calf pressing against his arse spurred him on, and he felt his control slipping. He tightened his hands around her wrists, quickening his thrusts, and she made the same sound at a higher pitch.

Mewling in need, she begged him in a string of, “Please, please, please, please-”

“Look at me.” Ian scraped his teeth along her jaw, making her whimper. When she turned her head, meeting his eyes, he asked her, “‘Please’ what? What do you want?”

Belle’s heart pounded so behind her ribs that it felt as if her entire body beat with it. “Come in me, please come in me, please, Sir…”

“Go on, show me what a good whore you are,” he purred in her ear. “Come.”

He pushed deep with a final, hard thrust and stayed there, grunting into the curve of her neck. She felt the pulse of him as he came inside her, and the orgasm that had refused to release until he allowed it slammed through her all at once. She squirmed and bucked, arching up, shouting wordlessly as she came just after him. 

She felt Ian’s hands loosen, and he tilted enough to ease her leg away from his shoulder. Reaching up again, he rubbed her wrists and palms while she calmed. He didn’t roll off right away. Belle appreciated the hesitation, enjoying his weight on her and his presence inside before he slipped out. 

Letting her leg unwrap from him, she gave a happy, satisfied hum as it flopped in exhaustion against the sheet. He pressed a kiss to her throat where he’d nipped at her, then another over her breastbone before starting to move.

“Do your hands feel all right?” he asked after moving to lie next to her.

“Good. They’re good. They’re all right,” Belle murmured. She sighed, wriggling closer to him. 

Ian chuckled, stroking his fingers along the soft shape of her ribcage. “And everything else?”

“Everything’s… perfect, Sir.” She smiled as his hand ran down her stomach, basking under his touch.

He hadn’t allowed her to disappear too far into herself, but she decided that she preferred it that way. This time, at least. She’d gotten to enjoy him fucking her for the first time with a mostly clear head. As much as she loved the soft, heady, flying feeling of subspace, she wouldn’t have traded the way everything happened tonight for anything.

Belle turned onto her stomach, shifting slowly. He moved his hand to her back and continued to pet her, and she could feel him lean over her. A single fingertip traced down her backbone. Her muscles flinched with the tickle of it, but she’d spent what little energy she had left changing position, and she couldn’t summon up so much as a squirm. 

She felt Ian sit up, and for a moment, she was disappointed that he was already going. He only moved down the bed a bit, though, staying in contact with her as he did. His hands slid down her back, to her hips, lingering around her bottom. He touched the crease above her thighs. It didn’t feel as if he were trying to get more out of her - it seemed like he was enjoying himself. Admiring, maybe. 

Ian found the last vestiges of welts on her backside, and he ran his fingertips along the now barely raised marks. He’d put them there and she had asked for them. Enthusiastically. He pressed the pad of his thumb along the lacy edge of a slim bruise, and Belle hummed quietly. When he looked up, he found her watching him with a fond expression on her face. 

He ducked his head, leaning to press a kiss to her hip, then licked the spot before sealing his mouth over it. She liked it when he left marks; he’d leave her another. When he was satisfied that it would leave a bruise, he sat back.

“All right, sweetheart. I’m going to help you wash up,” he told her, rubbing his palm over the mark before he left her bed.

Belle watched him go, staring at the way his backside moved as he crossed the room. It wasn’t until he opened the bathroom door that she saw the scratches high on his back. She hadn’t realized she’d grabbed at his shoulders so hard.

“I’m sorry,” she said when he came back to sit next to her.

He blinked at her, shaking his head as he set the things he’d gathered on her nightstand. “What on earth for?”

She pinched one side of her lower lip between her teeth and pulled it out again. “Your back. I didn’t know I’d-”

“I knew,” he said with a smile. “I don’t mind it.”

Belle wiggled her toes against the quilt where he had draped it across the end of the bed. He didn’t _mind_ she’d scratched him.

He dropped the hand towel he’d brought on the floor next to the bed. “I happen to like the occasional reminder, too.”

“Good to know,” she said as he reached out to pat her butt cheek. 

“Can you kneel?” Ian asked.

She muttered playfully at him, scooting her knees under her so that she could stick her bottom up in the air. He touched the toy’s base before beginning to ease it out of her. She heard it drop onto the towel, and he washed her up right away. She was fully capable of going to clean herself up, or she would be eventually. But it was _so nice,_ the feeling of Ian taking care of her when they finished.

He gave her a gentle pat on the ass. “Go on and lie how you want now.”

After another moment or two in the bottom-up position she’d taken, she sank back down, then turned and sat up next to him with her legs folded. He took a thin, almost translucent cloth from off top of the usual cool washcloth he’d brought back. Not expecting it, she took a second to recognize it.

“You brought me a makeup wipe?” she asked, in a bit of disbelief. Maybe it was the post-play hormone rush, but her eyes stung a little. 

“You do have on makeup.” He opened the wipe over his hand and started to lift it to her cheek.

Belle leaned back a bit. “Have you ever taken a woman’s makeup off?”

“No…” he admitted, and he held the wipe out to her.

She grinned and took it from his hand. “I’ll show you how, but let me do it this time?”

Ian paid attention to the way she carefully cleaned away her eye makeup first. “The words are still all right?”

“More than all right,” she assured him as she turned the wipe to a clean area. “I meant it when I said everything was perfect.”

She’d recovered quickly, compared to their previous scenes. He went back over it. The control, the kiss, the spanking. She had responded beautifully to the sex they had.

“You could have gone harder, couldn’t you?” he asked.

She looked at him almost shyly, smiling. “Yes, Sir.”

There were lines he’d been given in the past that he wasn’t accustomed to crossing, and she seemed to enjoy things that sailed right over them. He needed to adjust to that - going harder on her. 

Belle wiped the smear of lipstick from her cheek, then the rest from her lips. Ian looked tired, she thought. The good kind of tired that she felt, too. If she wasn’t mistaken, he’d needed tonight as much as she had. 

She hoped that Ian would get back into bed with her. It was easier to watch him leave if he stayed for a while, and she didn’t feel so wound up inside when he let her curl up with him afterward. He gathered the hand towel from the floor with everything bundled up inside to return it to the bathroom, turning on the sink tap and coming back almost as soon as he turned it off. When he approached the bed, she pushed herself up to the pillows, hoping that she was conspicuous enough in leaving room for him.

Whether he’d intended to stay or took her hint, Ian sat next to her. He reached down to bring her quilt up over them. Belle leaned against him, tucking herself into his side, and he wrapped his arms around her to bring her closer. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, petting her lower back with short motions. 

She tilted her head back so that she could see his face. The way he looked at her made something in her stomach flutter. “Still good. Good and getting better.”

Ian had missed watching the flush spread down her neck and chest, turned away from him as she’d been when they began playing in earnest. It had faded now, for the most part. A couple of soft pink blotches lingered below her collarbones. He made a mental note to do more face to face with her, so that he could more closely watch her pleasure and the effects that he had on her.

“I’ll fix my headboard,” she said, running her fingers along his forearm the same way that he touched her back. “Get anchors for it or something so it won’t bang against the wall.”

He pulled a dismissive face. “Don’t worry about it.”

“You _like_ the headboard banging,” Belle accused, smiling up at him.

Ian grinned at her in return. “It… lends an interesting element, the sound.”

She wondered what his bed was like. Not rickety, that much she could be sure of. And almost certainly bigger than hers. They’d only played at her place thus far, and while it didn’t bother her, at some point she wanted to see where he lived. For now, though, she was content with him coming over to her apartment. There was security and comfort in starting out in her own space. 

Belle pulled her feet under her so that she could kneel up. His arms didn’t leave her, but he loosened them so that she could move. She turned, facing him, and swung a leg over him to sit astride his lap. It was closeness that she was after, but she had another kiss in mind, as well.

She gave Ian’s upper lip a playful flick with the tip of her tongue and leaned in to rub her nose against his. He took the heavy hint, squeezing her tightly to him as he gave her teasing, plucking kisses that made her short of breath all over again.

Shifting her hips to a more comfortable angle, she snuggled herself into his chest, folding her arms between their bodies. She was sore inside, but it was a good kind of soreness. It was like the bruises and welts he put on her backside. When he left, he took the feeling of being in his presence with him. She couldn’t hold onto the way her heart pounded when he said filthy things in her ear or the way she sounded when he spanked and fucked her, but the physical results of their time together stayed longer. They were reminders that she would enjoy after he’d gone. 

Thinking of the sounds they made, she was suddenly glad that the apartment next door to her was empty. There was no telling what a neighbor would assume went on with her. Though, the thought of someone being confused and scandalized by what they could hear through the walls gave her an odd thrill.

Belle could feel his fingers playing with the ends of her hair, encountering the occasional tangle and working it gently free. His touch, his warmth and the rhythm of his breathing lulled her. She almost drowsed against him when he spoke.

“Belle?” he began, the vibration of his voice moving through her. “If you had a playroom, what might you have in it? What would you want it look like? Hypothetically…”

She smiled into Ian’s bare chest. “Hypothetically, hm?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual aid:  
> [Belle’s date outfit](https://ishtarelisheba.dreamwidth.org/file/713.jpg)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Consensual name calling, mild anal play (butt plug), nipple clamps, intense spanking, use of restraints, consensual crying.

She hadn’t thought she would miss Ian so much over a single weekend. He’d had an estate sale in Portland to attend, keeping them from getting together. It didn’t keep either of them from calling, though. They had fallen into a habit of talking every day, usually after he closed, and kept one another company through dinner. It was nice. And comforting. Looking forward to talking to Ian had quickly become one of the best parts of her day.

The lack of orgasms was maddening, however, and her body didn’t seem to know what to do about the deprivation. She probably could have counted the number of wet dreams she’d had in her life on one hand. Now it seemed as if she suffered through one nearly every night. They always ended just short of letting her come, and didn’t that just _figure._ Apparently even her subconscious was obeying Ian.

Belle kept a weather eye on the time as she worked. She knew just about when he would close up shop, and she wanted to call so that she got him soon after he arrived home. Just hearing his voice improved her mood by a few points no matter how she was feeling. It helped that he always sounded happy to hear from her, too.

“Hey,” he said when he picked up, and she could hear his smile in his voice. 

She muted the TV. “Hey. How was your day?”

“Not over yet.” Ian grumbled softly. A bell jingled somewhere in the shop. “I’ve an important delivery that’s a bit late.”

“Oh. Do you want me to call back?”

“Unless you need to go… You would make the wait far more enjoyable.”

Belle smiled and slouched down a little against the sofa arm. “I have all the time in the world.”

There was the sound of a creaky chair being sat in. “We should get together on Friday, hm?” he asked. “I can get away from work a bit early, I believe.”

“God, yes,” she said, pressing her lips together when she heard him laugh. “I’ve missed you. And I have a surprise for _you_ this time.”

Ian hummed with interest. “What do you think of coming over to mine?” 

She left the line quiet as she tried to come up with a response. She wanted to see Ian’s house, but she felt stuck on the familiarity of her own place. Evidently her silence lasted too long, because he spoke up to give her an out.

“I could bring some things to your apartment,” he offered, “if you’d feel better about that?”

Belle took the throw from the back of the sofa, pulling it down over her. She wasn’t sure how he understood, but she was glad that he did. “Let me think about it?”

“I had an interesting sale today,” Ian began, gently changing the subject for her. “Sold a reproduction of a nineteenth century erotic Japanese woodblock print to an ex-nun.”

“You’re having me on.” She giggled, snuggling down beneath her throw. 

He gave an overdramatic gasp of offense. “On my honor!” 

“An ex-nun? Really?”

“I’ve been waiting all day to tell you. I thought you would appreciate the irony.”

“I appreciate her taste, too,” Belle said with a grin. “Let me guess. Hokusai? Octopuses?”

“Aren’t you clever.” He sounded a bit proud that she’d known.

She shrugged to herself. “As far as antique erotic art goes, it’s one of the most popular. Certainly one of my favorites.”

Belle immediately cringed at her impulsive admission. It was something that her ex would have ridiculed her over, used against her, and she waited for Ian to make some remark.

His response, though, was a thoughtful and quiet, “Oh? I’ll have to keep that in mind, then.”

It was his reaction that finally made her mind up. “I’d like to come over.”

“How does four sound?” he suggested. “I can get away a little earlier, but I need some time to prepare.”

“Prepare? That sounds promising.”

“In this case, it only means I need to drop by the supermarket on the way home. Everything else is ready and waiting.”

She pushed back her throw and got up, heading toward the bedroom. Friday was two days away, but the anticipation made her need to _do_ something. It wouldn’t hurt to think about what she wanted to wear.

“What kind of panties do you like?” she asked as she poked through her underwear drawer.

“Ah, well, I’m more of a boxers man, myself,” Ian teased.

She snorted a soft laugh and rolled her eyes. “I guess I’ll choose, then.”

“You wear whatever you like, sweetheart,” he told her.

Opening her closet, she began sliding hangers aside as she sorted through the possibilities. “I’m going to show up at your door in long johns and you can’t stop me.”

He chuckled, and the sound of it made her feel warm all over. “Bring along a pair of pajamas. Or whatever you’d prefer wear afterward. You don’t have to spend the night if you don’t want, but I’d like you to be comfortable while you’re here.”

Belle smiled and stretched up to reach the closet shelf, pulling down a nice, big tote bag that would serve to take her things in. “I’ll bring something.” 

“I’m looking forward to getting you over here,” he said, lowering his voice.

His chair creaked again, and she imagined him sitting back, legs crossed as they’d been the first time she saw him. There was something about the way he looked when he relaxed that made her want to climb into his lap.

She stepped over to sit down on the bed. “Going to have your way with me?”

“I plan to have all kinds of ways with you.”

“Yeah? What sort of plans do you have?”

Belle let her free hand drift downward, moving under the long t-shirt she’d been hanging around in all day. She petted her pussy through the thin cotton of her panties.

“You aren’t touching yourself, are you?” he asked as though he knew.

She hesitated before saying, “No, Sir.”

“Mm,” Ian hummed doubtfully. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?”

“Not… technically.”

“Technicalities? All right. You can touch, but you won’t be allowed to come.”

She squeaked indignantly. “How is _that_ fair?”

“I never said a thing about fair,” he pointed out. “Go on, hand in your panties.”

Her fingers had only just slipped beneath her waistband when his shop bell rang. 

“That’d be the delivery service,” he muttered, then the tone of his burr rose again. “I’ll call when I’m home. Try to behave yourself in the meantime.”

“Let’s say I’ll do my best, Sir.” Her answer felt filled with disappointment, even to her. “Drive safely.”

Belle tossed her phone on the bed next to her and flopped backward. She turned onto her stomach, groaning into the quilt. Two days wasn’t an eternity, but it sure as hell felt like it.

~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~

She appeared at his door with a bag on her shoulder and a pair of paper-wrapped packages cradled to her chest. A small, faded blue, 70s Chrysler Avenger was parked in his drive behind her. Ian smiled as he stepped aside, gesturing invitation with a sweep of his arm. 

“Thank you,” Belle said before heading into the entryway. She was nothing if not eager, looking around, taking everything in. 

His house held the overflow from his shop. There were antiques everywhere, though he hoped that they’d been placed as attractively as he meant them to be. He could imagine how odd it might seem to her.

“You said to look for the pink house, but you didn’t say it was a Queen Anne!” Belle turned to face him again, walking back to lean up and plant a kiss on his cheek. She didn’t miss that he’d dispensed with his suit jacket. “I adore old houses. Victorians in particular. There’s something… comfortable about them.”

He gave a polite and altogether too formal incline of his head, and she got the feeling that there was a little sarcasm in there. “Well, then. I’m happy you approve.”

She offered him the two packages she held. “These are yours.”

“Is this the surprise you spoke of?” he asked as he accepted them.

She nodded quickly. “Open them.”

Ian unfolded the brown paper from the package on top, revealing one of the books he’d taken to her for restoration. The little tome had been spectacularly repaired; all of its loose pages were fixed, discolorations removed, the brittle and century old dogears as though they had never been committed. The cover had been so well done that he wouldn’t have had much disbelief to suspend if she told him that she had traveled into the past to pluck the book from its print shop. Eagerly, he unwrapped the other. Its condition was equally as impressive.

“Wonderful,” he whispered, admiring the giltwork. “Absolutely wonderful.”

She preened a little self-consciously, tucking her hair behind her ear. She knew that she did good work. There was just something about hearing Ian’s praise, though.

“Thank you. I’m glad they’re satisfactory.”

“Satisfactory? These are nothing less than beautiful, Belle.”

“The, um- the paper is acid-free, so you can store them in it if need be.” She wondered if it was ridiculous that his compliments on her work gave her such butterflies.

Carefully, he wrapped the paper around the books again. “How much do you customarily charge for this level of repair?”

“I enjoyed restoring them,” she said, waving a hand at what she knew was likely to come next.

“Belle. I intend to sell these. I’m going to pay you for your work.” He reached out to touch her chin, having her look up at him. “I want you to get an invoice to me. Promptly. All right?”

“Yes, Sir,” she agreed with a nod. 

“Here, into the living room.” Ian gestured to the archway off the left of the entry. I have some things to show you.”

“Would they happen to be the things you mentioned bringing to my place?” She cast a look over her shoulder at him.

He stepped to one side to leave the books on a bookcase just inside the room. “Perhaps, perhaps.”

“The others you brought are on my work table waiting for me,” Belle told him. She paused to slip her shoes off before continuing in, padding onto what she was certain was an expensive rug. It may have been a tad cluttered, but his house was in no way dirty. There wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. “I got a couple of books in from the museum, and I thought I’d stagger between them.”

“That’s fine. I’m in no hurry.” He pointed her toward the big, chocolate brown sofa that dominated the room’s focus.

There were a half dozen or so boxes sitting neatly on the side of the sofa farthest from the fireplace, and Belle’s curiosity demanded that she take a peek at a label. She recognized the name of the adult shop on the return address. Looking at another, she found its label similar. So was the next. And the next. 

_“Some_ things!” she said with a laugh. She looked to Ian, finding him grinning at her.

He stepped past her to take a seat at the end of the sofa. “Did I go overboard?”

Belle dropped her bag over behind the boxes. “In the best way.”

“You haven’t seen the terrors I’ve ordered for you just yet,” he said, his grin turning wolfish. “Would you like to?”

“We get to open everything?”

“Everything that’s arrived so far.”

She tugged her lower lip between her teeth in excitement. ‘So far,’ he’d said. She see-sawed between the thrill that he had bought _all this_ for her and the sudden bashful feeling that he’d bought all this for _her._

“Do you want something to drink?” Ian asked as he leaned back. “There’s sparkling and still water, wine, tea or coffee-”

“I’m all right.” She shrugged. “Maybe afterwhile.”

“Make yourself comfortable, then, because we have quite a bit to look at here.” He flicked a glance toward the stack of boxes.

Belle sat down at his feet. He’d probably meant for her to sit next to him or in the plump velvet chair placed kitty corner to the sofa. She followed the urge to park herself on the floor, though.

He blinked down at her before giving her a soft, fond smile. Reaching over, he took the box nearest him and handed it to her. She set it on her lap. Most of them were a size that spoke to there being more than a single item in each. She had a great imagination - she could fantasize about virtually anything - but she still had a difficult time imagining what Ian ordered to fill _all_ of the boxes there. And more, apparently.

Belle was plucking at the edge of the packing tape with her fingernails when he took something from the end table. Looking up, she noticed him offering her a small box cutter with a gold handle. 

“Now you’re just showing off,” she accused.

He didn’t deny it. “Don’t you need something to get at your playthings with?”

She clucked her tongue and reached for the box cutter just in time for him to pull it away. He did the same when she tried again, his expression full of mischief. So he was in that kind of mood. She stretched when he offered the tool to her once more, and he let her snatch it from his hand.

They went through each box, liberating toys from packaging, talking and laughing as they sorted them. He kept aside the occasional instruction papers. All of the penetrative toys went into one of the empty boxes to be sanitized, and everything else went into another. There were spanking implements, small bondage equipment, dildos, vibrators, anal toys - most of it very high end.

She looked at the results of his obvious shopping spree in wonder, a little bit overwhelmed by how much was there. He’d bought all of this just because of her. She’d have been happy with hand spankings and improvised bindings, if he were the one providing them. Maybe a new toy here and there. He was spoiling her, and she found herself delighting in it.

Ian kept an eye on her reactions to everything that she opened, reveling in her joy and curiosity. It would have been easy to put it all away to wait until the room upstairs had been finished. Doing so would have robbed them both of something that felt important, though. He wanted to give her the opportunity to get her hands on everything, to see and touch it all before they used it.

“There’s more on the way,” he told her. “From here on, much of it is… a bit complicated.”

Lifting her eyebrows, she looked up at him. She’d been testing out the weight and texture of a fair sized silicone dildo with a suction cup on the end. “Complicated?”

“Made to order,” he clarified. “A few furniture grade pieces.”

Belle shivered, pleased and curious at the prospects of what that might mean. Having a dom who had a playroom was an absolute dream. Here he was, though, putting one together from scratch. Again, _for her._

The room itself wasn’t ready, but Ian had planned it out in such detail that he could see it in his mind’s eye. Monday, he’d met with a discreet contractor that Jefferson connected him with. There was a necessary bit of destruction that had taken place during the past week, and what had once been a guest room was now little more than a great, empty space with bits of debris scattering the newly bared hardwood. 

He looked forward to Belle’s reaction to the finished playroom. Everything about it, he’d decided upon with her input. There was every likelihood that she would love it. Still, he felt some tangle of worry over whether it would make her happy.

She placed the toy she held in with the rest. “That’s everything?”

“All that was here,” he said.

He nested together the boxes that would fit, dropping the empty ones over behind the sofa, out of sight for the time being. Folding his hands in his lap, he leveled a serious look at her. Belle felt the change in the room - the giddy sensation of going up in an elevator whipped through her. 

“Now, you have two choices,” he told her. “I have everything ready to prepare a meal for us. We could have dinner and spend the rest of the evening quietly, if you like. Or… we might work up our appetites.”

Belle’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. She didn’t even have to think about it. “Dessert first, Sir.”

A hint of a smile lingered in the corner of his mouth. With a nod, he rose from his seat and crossed to the wide living room window, drawing the curtains closed. Her gaze followed. The way he moved, the lack of hurry in him fed her butterflies. 

On his way back, he switched on another lamp, brightening the room. “Stand up,” he said, stopping directly in front of her.

She got to her feet almost before he finished telling her to. He seemed to search her face for a moment. His gaze continued downward, and her skin felt as if it heated under his attention.

Ian lifted a hand, allowing his fingertips to skip across the row of thin box pleats that ran from neck to waist on her dress. He took a step to her side, his hand grazing along the shape of her ribcage as he circled behind and out of her field of vision.

He admired the way she’d dressed - the robin’s egg blue of her dress and the large, irregular print of stemmed cherry clusters. It didn’t quite reach her knees. He noticed her lack of stockings, and while he was more than interested in her bare legs, he found that he missed them a bit. There was a decorative bow tied to one side at her waist, and he pulled it open for the pure devil of it. 

She was as beautiful as ever. He never saw her that he didn’t feel floored by her all over again. And as someone who paid careful attention to the manner in which he presented himself, he very much enjoyed getting to know her tastes in clothing.

“Did you dress for me, sweetheart?” he asked from behind her.

Belle tried to look at him over both shoulders before answering. “Yes, Sir.”

He brushed her hair aside, finding the tiny zipper pull at her back, and slid it down. He slipped his hands inside to push the dress off her shoulders. Accustomed as Ian was to her wearing no bra beneath, finding something there was a surprise. Walking around in front of her again, he finished taking her dress down. It fell to reveal a thin cotton camisole loosely laced with a ribbon at the front and a pair of purple panties with polka dot edging clinging to her hips. He touched the little purple bow attached off-center as he stepped to the other side of her. 

“So sweet,” he said, flicking the ends of the bow, then gave the slightest tug to a loop in the ribbon holding her camisole together. “Though this is different.”

“Yes, Sir…” She gave him a tentative smile.

“I told you to wear what you liked, and I meant it.”

Her smile turned genuine and she met his eyes. “Yes, Sir.”

Ian took one end of the slender ribbon and gradually pulled it loose. The front of her camisole gaped open, revealing the modest inner curves of her breasts. He didn’t even attempt to resist stroking between them with the back of his fingers. 

“You do choose the nicest things to show me,” he praised before pulling the ribbon through its stitched eyelets. 

He could see a flush beginning to color her chest below her collarbones. Sliding her camisole off her shoulders, as well, he guided it down her arms until it dropped to the floor. Ian plainly saw her hold back a shiver, and goosebumps came up on her arms.

“Is the room too cool?” he asked softly.

Belle shook her head a bit. “No, Sir, it’s okay.”

Circling to her back, he ran his fingers across her side to feel her shiver again. This time she made a small sound along with it. He rested his hands at her waist for a moment before slipping them between the satiny fabric and her hips. Her panties slid easily down. He left them around her ankles.

“Your marks have faded,” he observed, stroking along her backside in the places where he particularly recalled them lingering. “We’ll just have to put them back, then.”

She looked over her shoulder at him again, saying, “Yes, Sir,” and he caught another bright smile on her face.

Behind her, he leaned to take a couple of things from the boxes they’d only just sorted toys into. There was a paddle she had been interested in, and something he wanted to put to use, as well.

“I’ll be there in the kitchen, right through the door behind you,” he told her, touching her arm before stepping out of the room.

Each time Ian visited her apartment, he’d noticed the toy cleaning solution sitting on the back of her bathroom sink. As it seemed to be what she preferred, he had acquired a bottle of his own. He worked quickly, not wanting to leave her for long. Taking the silicone plug they’d played with previously - already clean and set aside on a towel next to the sink - along with the new paddle and clover clamps, he returned to the living room and to Belle.

He laid the towel on the end table nearest her, setting the toys on top of it. Walking around so that she could see him, he made a bit of a show of rolling up his shirtsleeves for her. “Step out of your clothes.”

With his help in the form of a hand wrapped around her arm, Belle did as he said. He took her clothing and draped everything over the armchair behind her.

“Spread your legs a bit and bend over, hands on your knees,” he said as he placed an open hand in the middle of her back. “I’ve got something for that arse.”

He didn’t push. His touch was meant as reassurance, and he hoped that it was taken as such. She obeyed, though, her hair falling forward as she did. 

Ian stroked down her spine, taking the plug from the table. He ran the tip back and forth along her wet slit. The sound she made when he dragged it over her clitoris went right to his groin. He did it again for the pleasure of watching how she moved, how she shifted her hips with the need for more stimulation.

“Not just yet,” he almost singsonged as he drew the plug back toward her entrance again. “Opening those toys did this to you? Wet at the drop of a hat…”

Belle felt her face go hot at both the insinuation and the position he had her in. She’d always enjoyed how fast and profusely she got wet, and it was nice to know that he appreciated it, too.

He slid the plug into her pussy, and slick as she was, there was no friction to work past. The plug was immediately coated with her wetness. Pulling it out, Ian slid it in once more for good measure before bringing it up higher to rest against the puckered little hole. He pushed the plug in slowly this time. It was more than wet enough to have popped right in, but he wanted to take his time. He wanted her to have to concentrate on the way it felt entering her.

He could hear her breathing; quick inhales and easier sighs out. He watched her stretch as the thin bulb of the plug disappeared inside her, and the way her hole closed around the narrower part. She gave a short moan as it sank in up to the flared base.

“I believe this pretty cunt needs some company, doesn’t it?” He settled the base vertically so that she could stand comfortably, then tightened his hand at her hip. “There’ll be a while before it has a proper filling of its own, and we can’t have it getting lonely. Stay where you are.”

He took her panties from the chair arm and wrapped them tightly around his first two fingers. Pushing his fingers inside her, he left the panties there when he withdrew them. 

Belle whimpered softly and swayed. He balanced her, telling her, “Stand up,” as he curled a hand over her shoulder to bring her upright once more.

Ian kept his hand on her until she had her stance adjusted. It was only when she seemed steady on her feet that he reached for her arms.

“I want your hands behind you.” He moved to bring her arms gently back. “Wrap them around your wrists and keep them high. We don’t want them swatted, do we?”

She was a little breathless when she replied, “No, Sir.”

He took the clamps from the end table and slipped them into his waistcoat pocket before stepping around to face her. “I thought we might try something new this evening.”

Lifting a hand, he brushed her hair back over her shoulders before taking her right nipple between the pads of his thumb and forefinger. The pale pink nub was already half erect. He felt it harden further. Pinching more firmly, he pulled at it, observing the change from anticipation to pleasure in her expression. When he decided that she was sufficiently warmed up and sensitive, he brought one of the clover clamps out of his pocket.

There was a flash of _‘oh’_ in Belle’s eyes when she saw what he’d selected from among the new toys. He squeezed the sides of the clamp to open it, bringing the small silicone grips into place just at the back of her nipple before allowing it to close. Her breath left her in a shuddering sigh. 

He did the same to her left nipple, playing with it, sensitizing it before taking the other clamp from his waistcoat and placing it on. She let go of a sweet, soft squeak this time. 

They were well-made clamps with a strong bite, and he knew they hurt. He’d tested them on the web of his hand when she opened them. Her eyes practically rolled back in her head, though, as he put them on. The clamps were large in comparison to her small breasts, and even the weight of the stainless steel alone pulled at them. He touched one clamp and then the other, making them swing, and she gave a thin moan.

“Very nice,” he said with no small amount of approval before making another circle. 

Ian took the paddle on his way past the end table, showing it to her as he walked around front again. He turned it over in his hand, patting his palm with the rounded striking surface of it. Her eyes widened a bit.

“You quite liked this one, didn’t you?” he asked, opening his hand around the curved, cock-shaped grip. 

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, but her smile showed on either side of it as she nodded.

He raised the paddle near his ear, tilting his head. “Pardon?”

“Yes, Sir,” she corrected. “I like that one, Sir.”

“You know, I can’t even feign surprise.” He grinned, holding the grip up so that it touched her mouth. “Open.”

Belle parted her lips and he placed the head of the rather short, slim dildo between them. She seemed to be almost daring him while he held it there.

“You gravitate to cock. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you salivated over every dildo you got your hot little hands on tonight,” he scolded lightly, pulling the paddle back. “The only thing that surprises me is that I managed to clean these before you took a ride on something by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Sir,” she assured with an attempt at utter innocence that was belied only by the amusement in the corners of her eyes.

He bumped one clamp and then the other with the paddle, bringing a soft gasp from her and wiping the expression from her face. “You’re too shameless for me to believe that.”

Walking around to her back once again, he patted her bottom with the paddle - a few gentler pats, at first, then a round of slightly harder ones. He gave her a single, sharp spank that caught both cheeks just above her thighs, then stood still behind her.

“I feel like a bit of a chat,” he said, admiring the pink that began to develop across her backside before he went on to ask, “When was the first time you understood how you enjoy pain?”

Belle hesitated. She’d never told, but no one had ever asked, either. Slowly, she at last confessed, “Summer camp…”

“Summer camp,” he echoed, and she could hear the surprise in his voice.

“I stood too close to a campfire, Sir. It felt good and I stayed too close to it for too long, and I ended up with a first degree burn down the side of my calf.” She smiled to herself. The memory still gave her a nice tingle. 

He ran his fingers down her back, starting between her shoulderblades. “And you took pleasure in the burn?”

“Mmm,” she hummed, partially in answer and partially in response to his touch. “It took longer to heal up than it was supposed to because I kept running hot water on it in the showers while I masturbated. I… might have been a little bit precocious…”

“You didn’t begin with physical punishment,” Ian observed.

“No, Sir. I never had a spanking until I _asked_ for one.” She smiled over her shoulder at him once more. “Sir.”

He gave her a swat on the ass. “Eyes front.”

Belle looked forward, almost wishing she’d asked him to leave the curtains open. She couldn’t recall how clear the view in from the street was. As she considered how Ian might react to her asking, he pressed himself against her back and everything else fled her thoughts. His body heat seemed to radiate right into her. She felt his hand and the bare inside of his forearm slide over her stomach, wrapping the warmth around her.

His hand ran up between her breasts, holding her more tightly to him, resting when he had it wrapped around her throat. She could feel his cock pressing against her backside. 

“You eventually made it to spanking, though,” he said near her ear, the way he lowered his voice sending a wave of need between her legs. “Being spanked to the point of breaking. What is it that drives you to that?”

“I don’t know, Sir,” she answered automatically.

He made a scoffing sound, the breath of it tickling through her hair. “You ask for spankings that set you sobbing and screaming, and you expect me to believe you don’t know why?”

She shook her head in a quick, short motion. “I don’t know, Sir!”

“Don’t lie to me!” Ian made space to give her a particularly hard slap on the ass with the paddle and her body jerked in his hold. 

“I’m not- I-” Belle closed her eyes, concentrating on the sharp sting. She knew why. It was getting herself to say it that somehow tripped her up.

The paddle tapped at the same spot in warning as he gave her an expectant, “Yes?”

“It feels good,” she confessed, concentrating on the way his arm felt around her, the way his hand felt at her throat. “Feels good, being pushed to break, to- to let go and cry, and it’s okay.”

His thumb stroked at the side of her neck. “What else do you feel? Beyond ‘good.’”

Belle tightened her hands around her wrists. She could feel the material of his waistcoat and she itched to grab onto it. Somehow he wasn’t close _enough._ She felt exposed, and it had nothing to do with standing naked in his living room.

He gave her another, sharper swat. “You know how I feel about repeating myself.”

“Free,” she finally told him, feeling as if she had to convince her mind to let her say it. “Safe, Sir,”

Ian kept her there for a while, holding her to him, and is was only when she relaxed enough to lean back into him that he moved. He allowed his hand to slide slowly away from her as he stepped around her again.

“The release,” he said quietly.

There wasn’t always some grand, far-reaching reason behind the need to submit, he was well aware. Not every submissive had a past with abuse or neglect, or indeed any sort of trauma to be worked through. He’d have been something of a hypocrite if he judged anyone who played on either side for those reasons. But sometimes the need was simply _there._ He couldn’t help being glad that Belle’s need was as simple as that. Still, there was some manner of anxiety in her that he had yet to figure out.

He touched one of the clover clamps, dragging the side of his finger along the bottom of it just enough to make her shudder. Her nipples had begun to flush a pretty shade of red in the grip of them. He grazed a fingernail across one of the pinched nubs and she pushed her chest out toward him.

“Oh, you’re far too eager,” he chided, taking the clamp between his fingers and giving it a tug, then a slight twist. Her breath hiccupped in response. “I’m reminded that we need to work on that patience.”

Belle wasn’t sure whether she looked forward to that or dreaded it a bit. Patience wasn’t her strong suit. Not where orgasms were concerned, at least. 

“Yes, Sir,” she agreed as she watched his hand move to take hold of the other clamp, and she wished that she were in a position to press her thighs together without him noticing. The sensation of the clamp tightening with his steady pull at it sent a climbing thrill of pain and desperate need through her and she heard herself murmuring, “Yes, yes, yes, Sir…”

He grinned, giving another tug. “If you enjoy these so much, I’ll just have to acquire more. We can find all sorts of _sensitive_ places to hang them from.”

It took no more than the thought of him attaching one of the clamps to her clitoris to make her clench around the plug in her ass. She bit back on the whimper that the reflex caused.

“You like that, do you? The idea of it?” Ian asked. The clamp swung when he let go of it. Walking around behind her once more, he stood at an angle that would give him a nice bit of leverage, and he leaned to speak low into her ear. “I know what you are, and I want to hear you say it. What are you, Belle?”

Her heart thumped, her mouth opening twice before she could get the words out. “A slut, Sir.”

She couldn’t put much volume behind it. It was one thing to find it a turn-on when he called her such names, but another entirely to have to say them, herself. 

“Louder,” he said, and the paddle hit her right ass cheek, leaving a hot sting behind.

“I’m… a slut, Sir.” Hearing it in her own voice made her face burn.

He gave her another spank to the other cheek. “Louder!”

“I’m a slut, Sir!” she cried out, and it seemed to hang on the air in the quiet room. 

Embarrassment made her eyes water. At the same time, she felt herself becoming _wetter._

“Yes, you are.” Ian petted her backside, stroking over the reddening marks. He took a second, finding it necessary to adjust himself, his trousers growing uncomfortably tight in certain places.

Her face was red, as well, when he stepped around again. She flushed so beautifully. He caught her eye and fixed her with an intense look.

“I can smell how aroused you are,” he said with a smirk at the corner of his mouth. Sweet and musky, he could almost taste the scent. He _wanted_ to taste her. Not today, though.

Her eyes widened. He heard the escape of breath from her and she shifted her weight ever so slightly on her feet. Ian could practically see her blush spreading. Oh yes, his remark had a lovely effect.

“Spread your legs,” he told her, taking a half step back. “Time we find those panties, hm?”

She did as he said and adjusted her stance so that he could reach between her thighs. He cupped his hand over her mound, sliding a finger alongside her clit before pushing the middle two easily into her. Catching the elastic with a fingertip, he pulled the panties slowly out.

“Slut, indeed.” He chuckled, showing them to her. The silky fabric was wet through, his fingers and palm glistening. “I could wring these out if I tried.”

Belle chewed at her lower lip. Her gaze flicked between the panties and his face.

He arched an eyebrow. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Again she said, this time whispered, “I’m a slut, Sir.”

Reaching past her, he dropped her soaked panties onto the towel. “You like this paddle,” he pointed out again. “Let’s try the other end.”

“Yes, please, Sir,” Belle agreed, practically salivating as she watched him turn the black paddle around. 

Her panties hadn’t provided much in the way of firmness to squeeze around, but they’d been _something._ When he took them away, she was left too empty, too unused. The way she felt, she’d have been grateful no matter what he offered to put inside her.

He looked down, bringing the handle up against her labia. She could feel how easily it slipped through her wetness. He didn’t wait long before sliding it in.

Ian pushed the dildo in as far as it would go, stopped by the wide flare between the paddle’s spanking surface and the grip. He resisted the urge to simply fuck her with it, choosing instead to hold it still and stoke her frustration. Much as he talked about training it out of her, he rather took pleasure in her impatience. 

The muscles in her thighs trembled, and he could see her pussy trying to clench around the dildo. Raising his eyes to her face, he found her biting her lips together, her brow drawn in something like concentration. He gave the handle an excruciatingly slow quarter turn and she responded with a small moan. The curve in the silicone cock was hitting a good spot, he expected. After a few moments of his purposeful attempt at driving her mad, he heard her breathing one word over and over.

“Please, please, please…”

He brought his body right up against hers, his chest rubbing across one of the clover clamps. “Pardon? I can’t quite hear you.”

“Please, Sir, please-”

“Is that you begging? Because there isn’t much to it, if that’s your intention.”

She whimpered, looking pleadingly up at him. “Please make it move, Sir? Please fuck me?”

A smile twitched at his lips. As flustered as she was, she made a good effort. “You want me to move it?”

“Yes, Sir, please, please?” Her plea ended on a small whine.

Ian set his free hand at the far side of Belle’s waist, holding her still. She didn’t have time to draw a full breath before he pulled the dildo halfway out and slid it right back in. He set up a hard, measured rhythm, and her breathing fell in with it - gasps of air as he withdrew the handle, panting them out when he thrust it in again as though they were forced from her. 

Belle squeezed her eyes shut, overwhelmed but trusting him with her balance in spite of her instinct to open her hands and hold on. Ian avoided touching her clitoris and the paddle handle was fairly small, but it felt _so good._ He knew just what he was doing, and she was glad of it.

“It turns you on, being called names,” he said, his voice strained. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek. “It’s the humiliation?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but all that came out was a whimper. 

“Answer me or I stop,” he threatened.

“No, no, no, no,” she breathed, her eyes flying open to find him looking right back at her. “Hu- humiliation. Yes, yes, Sir.”

He cocked his head a little to one side. “And what does it do to you?”

Belle felt him change angles with the dildo mid-thrust. Her legs shook and all the wits she’d managed to keep went scattering. “Oh, God. Wet. Makes me wet, Sir.”

His hand flexed against her waist and she had to fight the need to melt into him. “Mm, it most certainly does,” he agreed.

He pulled the handle from her suddenly, and she gasped at being left feeling empty again. Her pussy clenched twice at the absence. She felt tears spring back to her eyes. He brought the toy up to her face, showing it to her, both the dildo and his fingers slick.

Ian clucked his tongue. “Look at this. Good thing I rolled my sleeves up, isn’t it? You’d have ruined my shirt.” He brought his hand closer, stroking the back of his wet fingers down her cheek. “Dirty girl. You make such a mess, don’t you?”

It was warm on her skin for an instant before going cold. She wasn’t sure why what he’d done made her head spin, but she found herself unsteady and breathless, needing him to keep going. When he pulled away from her, his hand sliding from her waist, it was only being unsure of her balance that kept her from stamping her foot.

Ian stepped behind her. He could _feel_ the desperation radiating off her, and he had the intention of playing with it further. 

Taking the last toy from the end table, he slid the hand towel with her wet panties on it to the floor, laying the paddle on top of them. He took a good moment to sort out the battery for the small, silicone-covered bullet vibrator in his hand, allowing her time to catch her breath somewhat. She was in no shape to answer him very well, and he wanted her verbal for a while longer.

“What would you think of trying other forms of humiliation?” he put forth as he circled where she could see him, holding the bullet in his closed hand. 

Belle hesitated, having to concentrate on his words before she could consider. “What forms, Sir?”

He hummed shortly, stopping in front of her. “For instance, crawling, or furniture play. Wetting yourself.”

“Those- those sound-” She nodded, and then his last suggestion sank in. “Wet myself, Sir?”

“What if I told you to urinate on yourself?” he asked, giving her another of those unwavering looks dead in the eye that made her feel shaky inside.

She blinked. “Right now, Sir?”

He took a step nearer, easing himself right up against her front, and asked quietly, “What would you do, Belle?”

The thought of it, the possibility, gave her pause. It also made her all the more aware how aroused she was. She took a gasping breath. “I would obey you, Sir.”

He gave her a smile, lifting a hand to run a gentle finger along the underside of her chin. “No, not today,” he said, and he leaned in to drop a kiss at the corner of her mouth.

Even that - just the way he talked to her, offering scenarios and possibilities, provoking her mind and giving shape to things she hadn’t before let herself entertain doing - it started to make her feel wonderfully fuzzy. 

He dropped his hand where she couldn’t see what he did. At first, she thought he simply touched her. She felt his fingertips insinuating themselves near the top of her slit, and God, it felt _amazing._ Almost the same second that she realized something else had been pressed in next to her clit, he turned it on. There was no chance of her holding back the moan that slipped from her mouth in response to the vibration. She flicked a look downward.

“Eyes _up,”_ he snapped, and she looked to him. He teased cheerfully, “You’d like an orgasm, wouldn’t you?”

She whimpered, pleading to him with her eyes because she was unable to agree in words.

Ian needled her a bit more, almost mocking. “Two weeks without one. You can _taste_ it, can’t you?” He touched the soft button on the side of the bullet, turning up the speed. “How many times did you think of disobeying me? Of sticking those fingers in your cunt and stealing an orgasm?”

Belle shook her head quickly, wanting to promise him that she hadn’t. 

He tugged at one of the clover clamps. It held securely, tightening, pulling her nipple, and he gave it a twist that send a wave of pleasure-pain straight between her legs. Her eyelids fluttered.

“Look at me,” he told her again.

There was a glint in his eyes that she thought could almost make her come on its own. It certainly played a part in the way the muscles in her abdomen were tightening. With his gaze locked onto hers, he turned the vibrater higher again. She could feel her orgasm _right there…_ and he pulled the bullet away. Belle cried out in frustration. 

With a sharp and devilish grin, he enunciated clearly, his lips so close to hers that she could feel them move when he told her, “Not yet.”

Her pussy throbbed with the narrowly missed orgasm as it evaded her. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she clenched her hands around her wrists, as though physically holding on would help. 

He moved away and behind her once again. She heard the small thump of him setting the bullet down, then saw from the corner of her eye as he placed the paddle on the sofa arm. He wrapped a hand around hers at her back, and the heat of it made her shiver. 

“Belle?” He spoke softly, his fingers rubbing along the back of her hand. “All right?”

She couldn’t quite make her brain and tongue connect, but she nodded as clearly as she could.

He touched her hair, brushing it away from her arms and letting it fall over them again. “You know I want words, sweetheart.”

Belle licked her lips and swallowed hard, forcing away enough of the fog in her head to tell him, “Yes, Sir. Okay. All right.”

One of Ian’s hands curled around her upper arm. She brought her feet together with a little stumble as he guided her to turn, leading her a step over to the sofa. 

Quietly, right in her ear, he ordered, “On your knees.”

She dropped gratefully to the floor, relieved to no longer have to rely on her shaky legs to hold her up. He stepped in front of her to sit down as she knelt at his feet. The sounds of his belt buckle opening and his zipper being taken down when he undid his own trousers made her mouth water, and she felt her face go hot as she realized what it did to her.

Belle waited anxiously to be able to do more than watch. She shifted in closer between his knees, looking up to find him watching her. She loved the feeling of being observed by him, knowing that he watched, feeling his dark eyes on her. He could have looked right through her, but he made her feel seen.

She rested her head against his thigh, needing to touch him in any way he might allow. She wanted him in her mouth, down her throat, wanted to be filled with him. Every movement he made toward exposing himself, it felt deliberately and teasingly slow. If she’d undone his trousers for herself, she would already have him in her mouth by now. That was likely why he had decided to do it while she had to watch. With that realization, a soft, pouty sound escaped her.

“My impatient girl,” Ian said fondly as he pulled the waistband of his boxers away from his cock. He pushed his clothes down his hips, finally giving her access. “Let’s see what you can accomplish with only your mouth.”

Beaming, she lifted her head and leaned in, nuzzling at his abdomen and the base of his cock. She brushed her lips along the soft skin, indulging in being allowed to have her mouth on him. He was _so_ hard, dusky reddish purple, hot against her cheek when she rubbed along the length of him. He’d been hard for just about as long as she had been wet, she was sure of it. 

Ian’s fingers ran through her hair. She could feel him playing with her curls, letting them slip through his hand.

“There you go, take your time,” he said, his words followed by a breathy groan. 

Belle nosed beneath his cock, nudging up against his balls. She licked across one side before pulling it into her mouth, sucking at it, stroking with the tip of her tongue. Ian made a muffled, strangled sound. If her mouth hadn’t been full, she’d have smiled over his response. He petted her shoulders and upper back while she did the same to the other side.

Her breasts rubbed against his thighs as she moved, the clamps being pushed and pulled, tugging at her nipples. They sent jolt after jolt of pleasure through her. She let go, pulling back with a gentle suction until his ball slipped from between her lips. He grunted softly and his fingers pressed along the back of her shoulder. Leaning back a little, she licked up the underside of his cock with the broad of her tongue, all the way from base to tip.

“That’s right. Keep your hands to yourself,” he told her, his voice thick with need. “Just your mouth.”

She eased his foreskin back with her lips and sucked hard at the head of his cock, hollowing her cheeks. Above her, she heard Ian grunt. One of his hands slid from her shoulder and up the side of her neck, his fingers threading into the hair just above her nape. He fisted his hand there and she waited for him to take control of the blow job, but he seemed content to simply hold on. She wondered what it would take for him to do it.

Belle bobbed her head slowly. She loved the heavy feeling of him in her mouth, the thickness and heat, the taste of him. He made soft, almost hungry sounds as she took more of him, gradually managing to get him past the back of her tongue. She realized she’d taken him noticeably deeper than the previous time almost the same moment that his hand tightened in her hair.

“God…” He hummed low. “Doing fine with that training dildo, aren’t you?” 

She looked wide-eyed up at Ian, her friction reddened lips wrapped around his cock. His hand held where it was and she went on, hoping to show him just _how_ well she was doing with the dildo he’d given her to practice on. 

“When you can get it all the way down, we’ll have a go at some proper face fucking,” he told her with a crooked smirk and a heated leer that sent a pulse of _need_ through her.

Belle squeezed her thighs together hard and shifted her backside against her heels, trying to bring back the sting of the paddle. She couldn’t precisely respond, but his promise was excellent incentive to work all the harder. Taking him as deep as she could, tempting her gag reflex to set off, she kept herself there and rubbed her tongue against the underside before she had to pull back for a breath. 

She pressed kisses to the head of his cock. Ian gave a rough sigh and she smiled up at him as she ran her tongue across the slit, licking away a bit of pre-come that tried to well up. Tilting so that she could reach without using her hands, she stroked the tip of her tongue against the delicate membrane connecting the head to his foreskin underneath. He drew a soft hiss between his teeth, and she felt the muscles in his thighs tense. Belle went back down, again taking him deep into her mouth. 

He brought his free hand up to touch her cheek, tracing the place where it hollowed around him with the pad of his thumb. “Go on,” he said, his fingers tightening in her hair a little more as he exerted less than a second’s worth of pressure there. “Go after what you want, now.” 

Closing her eyes, she began bobbing her head more quickly, dispensing with the cock worship in favor of making him come. He was so close that it didn’t take long after she got serious about sucking him. She was on the up stroke when his orgasm hit him, and the first spurt was paired with a low, drawn out groan. She kept him right there, looking at him as she sucked hard, fully intending for the rest to land in the same place directly on her tongue. She wasn’t disappointed. His cock twitched, his come salty-sweet as he filled the small space around himself in her mouth. 

When she could feel that he’d finished, Belle pulled off with a gratifyingly obscene _pop_ as the head left her lips. She swallowed what he’d given her, then returned to lick across the head, kissing it once more before sitting back to rest her cheek against his thigh again. His panting calmed and he went back to playing with her hair. 

“Get up,” he directed after a few moments.

He moved to wrap his hand around her upper arm, helping her to her feet. Belle, her legs still shaky and the rest of her feeling too light to hold her to the floor, was glad for the support.

“Hand me the paddle,” Ian told her as he slid his hand down to bring her arm forward and circle her wrist. When her mouth opened in a smile of surprise, he asked, “You didn’t think I’d done all the spanking I meant to do, did you?”

He held onto her as she leaned to take the paddle from the sofa arm, tugging her insistently to him one she had it in hand. Taking the still sticky handle of the implement from her, he brought her close, so that she stood between his knees.

“I’m going to pin you,” he warned while her attention was on him and seemed somewhat clear.

Her nod was slow, and he could see how her awareness wavered. It wouldn’t take much at all to send her careening right into subspace. There were things that needed discussing now rather than as they went along, then.

“Do you have any reservations about being held down for your spanking? Belle?” He pushed for an answer.

“No, Sir,” she whispered, looking at him through her eyelashes. “Please do.”

His hand tightened around her wrist, demanding her attention for a second more. “And after I give your arse a proper marking, I’m going to turn you around and fuck you.”

Her mouth clicked shut, and when she opened it again, her breath seemed to leave her in one outward gasp. _“Yes,_ Sir…”

He brought her down with a quick, rough pull to lie on her stomach over his left thigh. He moved his right leg over both of hers, bending his knee to tighten his hold and pin her across his lap. “Hands behind you, same as before. And keep them there.”

Belle obediently took her arms from between her chest and the sofa, stretching them back until he guided them to fold in the small of her back again. The clamps biting into her nipples rubbed against the cushion with nothing to protect them. She arched her breasts into the heavy brocade, chasing the sensation.

Following a cluck of his tongue, she received a sharp slap to her backside, and she could tell that it came from his hand rather than a paddle.

“Stay still,” he reminded.

“Yes, Sir,” she responded automatically, clasping her hands where he’d arranged them and forced herself still. 

She felt the paddle rub across her ass cheeks. Not sure where he might begin after having already warmed her up a bit, she waited under a bit of anticipation. His leg was heavy over hers, holding her securely, and he rested his unoccupied hand between her shoulderblades. Belle remembered the word he’d drawn out of her earlier. _Safe._

The first caught her off guard - a solid strike to her right cheek that jolted her all the way through, surprising a short yelp out of her. It tingled for an instant before burning hot. He didn’t give her a chance to prepare herself for the next, inflicting it right on top of the first and multiplying the burn tenfold. She counted. The muscles in her calves were just beginning to feel twitchy when he reached a half dozen, and he moved to the other side, giving the left cheek the same treatment. 

He set up a rhythm of two hard spanks at a time to either cheek with no hesitation in the switch. The paddle moved back and forth, searing her ass until her eyes stung and she began to almost whine as she breathed out. Her feet lifted from the floor, but there was only so far they could go with the way he held her. She was left with a need to grind her hips against him that she couldn’t satisfy. 

His strikes moved lower, overlapping, until the edge of the paddle hit the crease at the top of her thigh. It was a startling slice of pain in the middle of the more steadily growing fire that he was setting. She gave a sharp gasp and her hand darted downward with a mind of its own. 

The paddle hit the palm side of her fingers with a dull sound, and she squeaked out an, “Ow!” more from surprise than injury.

“Belle?” He set the paddle down, taking her hand. “Are you all right?” 

She wiggled her fingers, but it took her a moment to say anything more. “Okay. I’m okay, yes, Sir.”

Ian ducked his head to press a kiss to her palm. “Do you feel like going on or do you want to stop?” he asked as he ran his open hand across her own.

“Go on,” she replied immediately. “Please go on, Sir?”

“I believe we need to bind those hands, though. This isn’t the first time they’ve caught a good slap,” he recalled. “You can’t seem to keep them under control yourself.”

He reached past her, over her head, to the box of new things that didn’t require washing. Bringing out a set of wrist and ankle restraints all hooked together, he took a few seconds to sort out the smaller pair, tossing the remaining ones back into the box. He wrapped one and then the other of the black suede cuffs around her wrists and buckled them snugly. When he clicked the metal clasps together to join them, he felt a slight squirm from her that he might not have noticed were she not draped over his lap.

Ian hooked two fingers firmly around the steel clasps and brought her arms up higher than they’d rested when she held them on her own. “Now I expect they’ll keep out of the way,” he said with some satisfaction in her predicament. He petted her backside, feeling the fevered warmth that it gave off. “All right, let’s see what sort of lasting welts I can leave on this, shall we?”

He leaned to see her face, finding her blue eyes dark and half-lidded. Putting her in a proper set of restraints seemed to have an interesting effect on her. 

“Yes, Sir,” she breathed. 

Taking up the paddle, he rested it at the lower curve of her bottom for a bare second before drawing back bringing it down again, continuing where they’d left off. He gave a pair of strikes to each cheek, doubling his efforts to four after a few more rounds. He couldn’t help how much he enjoyed the nice jiggle of her bottom as he spanked her. Ian didn’t know whether it was his imagination or a happenstance of the light and the way her arse reddened, but the farther he got into spanking her, the lovelier the jiggle was. 

The noises she made grew more and more appreciable, as well. So much so that he began to feel himself responding to her again. One of her sounds made his exposed cock positively twitch against the naked skin of her hip - it started off a shaky, drawn out moan as he built the pain higher and higher for her, evolving into a whine, finally settling into a satisfying keen. Her legs pulled up behind his pinning her and he caught the moment her toes curled. Her hands struggled against both his hold and the restraints. He spanked her harder. It slowed the strikes, but the tradeoff was more intensity. 

The red grew deeper, splotches of reddish-purple developing as she marked, and he felt her breath stutter as she began to cry. Her crying quickly turned to downright sobs that he could feel echo through him. Belle’s face was drawn with emotion, her mouth wide open, a wet spot gathering on the cushion beneath her temple. Her next sob broke with a shout. After two more solid swats centered on the lower curve of her ass where they would bounce against the plug inside her, he ended it. 

“I think we’ll call that a good spanking,” he told her quietly. Laying the paddle down, he released his hold on the restraints.

Ian rubbed between her shoulderblades with one hand and petted her bottom with the other, enjoying the heat on his hand. She would mark _well_ this time. Smiling, he wondered how long the ache and welts and bruises would satisfy her. 

“Good girl,” he soothed as her hands went lax. “Such a good girl, darling…”

He waited until her tears and sniffles dissipated before moving his leg off hers, allowing her to lie draped limp across his thigh. Making good on his promise, he took hold of her arm and brought her up from his lap.

“Come on, up now,” Ian said. He balanced her, getting her a bit awkwardly to her feet. “Or have you changed your mind about that orgasm you were whining for earlier?”

She whimpered in reply, bringing her gaze up to meet his, begging in spite of her inability to express it verbally. Her cheeks and lips were flushed bright from a good, hard cry, her eyes glassy, blinking slowly. She breathed in soft gasps. He admired the dishevelment of her hair, curls wild and sprawling thanks to her exertion and his hands in them. 

He wrapped his hands around her arms just above the elbows, bringing her closer. She’d be exhausted by the time they were finished - he would see to it. 

Belle was wobbly, her head blissfully empty of everything save _him._ His hands on her, his eyes giving her a point to anchor to, the pain he’d left seared into her skin. She felt made of nothing but need, head to toes. It was probably a good thing that she couldn’t talk. She had no idea what might have come out of the disconnect between her mind and tongue and judgment just then. The only concept she could find the least bit of purchase on was her desperate need for him. More than anything, she needed him to make use of her, to have him inside her, to open her up and pour himself in. 

She was glad when he helped her to straddle his lap, certain she couldn’t have managed if he’d made her do it by herself. His hands curled around the backs of her thighs, bringing her into position over him. He kept her there. Making her wait. She _tried_ to be patient. Her legs trembled, though, and she knew he could feel it. She was so slick that she could feel her own wetness high on the inside of her thighs in the cool air. Patience was beyond her.

One of Ian’s hands left her leg, moving to line himself up with her. The head slid easily along her pussy lips. He slid it back and then forward again, until she felt him stop just at her entrance.

“Why don’t you show me what sort of slut you are, sweetheart?” he dared her.

She sank down onto his cock, taking his remark as permission. Her breath caught. After being deprived and teased for so long, he felt _unbelievable._ His hand returned to her thigh as she lowered herself right down to his lap, and he squeezed her so tightly it almost hurt. She tilted her hips forward, basking in the way he filled her up, the feeling of stretching to accommodate him inside her.

He ran his hands up, up, cupping them, flexing his fingers into the tender skin of her thoroughly spanked backside. It sent a fierce sting of pain through her, and her body instinctively began rocking against him. The clover clamps swung with her motion. They felt as though they weighed so much more than when he initially put them on her, pulling at her nipples, giving her a sharper pinch. 

Ian lowered his eyes slowly, raking them down from the bounce of her breasts and the glint of lamplight off the clamps, over the way her stomach moved. He tilted his head, looking between her legs, where she opened around him to take him inside. Moving his hands to her hips, he angled her back a little. He directed her movement so that he had a better view of his cock sliding in and out of her.

God, but she was beautiful all over. Every inch of her. Everything about her. And he didn’t deserve her. He wanted her - wanted to keep her, to make her his, to give her everything _she_ wanted - but he couldn’t for a second figure why she’d set her mind on him. And he couldn’t imagine her enduring him for long. While she did want him in return, however… 

He angled her toward him again, bringing her in so that she received plenty of friction as she rode him. _That_ was a sight he’d have given a great deal to see - her pretty pearl of a clit rubbing against the length of his cock. Between their position and his untucked clothing, his view was sadly obstructed. It was a thought for another time, though.

While the change in angle was unhelpful as far as seeing went, it was fairly brilliant when it came to fucking her. Belle moaned, and the sound struck him as particularly needy. The way she rocked her hips grew more demanding. Her brow drew, and she looked as though she might cry again out of sheer frustration.

“Close, are you?” he teased, though he was near gritting his teeth to hold back, himself. “Feeling every day of those two weeks without an orgasm?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ride him harder. Ian simply tightened his hold on her hips to control her pace.

“Open your eyes, Belle,” he told her. When she forced them open again, he grinned. There was such _pleading_ in them. “There you go. Look at me. I’ll tell you when you can come.”

With her hands bound, leaning as she was, he had her balance thrown off. He’d never have allowed her to fall, but the bit of awkwardness in her movements seemed to spur her on, to make her more eager. 

The fine wisps at her hairline were growing damp with exertion. Ian was aware that he was making her work for her orgasm. She’d asked him to go harder. Though it might mean small steps, he was intent on giving Belle what she asked for.

He felt the warm tension beginning to build deep in his belly. He wouldn’t last much longer, and she was near the edge, herself. She’d more than earned it.

Running his fingers up her sides, he gave her permission. “It’s time to come for me, Belle,” he told her as he lifted his hands to her breasts. “Come when you feel it again.”

Belle responded to him with a sob of relief. She hitched her hips against him harder, unaware that he reached for the clamps until he caught hold. She didn’t have time to react before he removed them.

The blood rushed back to her pinched nipples, and she was unprepared for the pain, sharp and exquisite, rocketing her right into an orgasm. She cried out loudly and Ian’s hands on her waist were all that held her up as she arched and practically convulsed, her body going taut with pleasure.

Ian loved the way she came. It was addictive just to witness, much less to _feel._ Her legs tightened around his thighs, and he felt her feet pressing, curled, against the outside of his knees. Wrapping an arm around her to keep her steady, he moved the other hand behind her. He found the base of the plug in her ass, gave it a turn, and pressed it harder against her body to give her another form of sensation, drawing her orgasm out longer. 

She clenched around his cock in wave after wave. He held her tightly down on his lap, keeping himself held deep. Thrusting wasn’t ideal, not in a way that would accomplish much, but her orgasm was doing a fine job of finishing him off. 

He came while she still shuddered with aftershocks, her inner muscles still contracting, still pulling at him as though her body couldn’t get enough of him to satisfy. His hips twitched beneath her weight, his fingers pressing into her soft flesh. His head hadn’t yet stopped reeling when he felt her legs relax. Her warm breath puffed over his face and she shivered with fatigue as she calmed.

Ian had a thought to draw her close, when she leaned into him on her own. She gave a shaky, sated sigh, the awkward misbalance in her position gone as she tilted herself forward. They remained connected for a few moments longer, her forehead resting against his own, sharing breath and quiet. His heart gave a skip that had nothing to do with coming down from his orgasm.

He reached around her and unhooked the clasps between the wrist restraints, freeing her hands. Gently, he brought her in to lean against his chest while he stroked up and down the length of her back. He felt the rise and fall of her breathing as it evened out. 

Belle tucked her head beneath his chin and curled her arms between their bodies. He put his arms around her, holding her snug to him.

“Good girl,” he whispered to her again. “You did so well. I’m so proud of you, Belle.”

She hummed happily into the front of his waistcoat. The sound echoed in her head until she felt as if that were all that filled it. The rest of her insides felt a lot like she’d turned into a warm, limp noodle in Ian’s arms. She couldn’t remember ever feeling as deliriously content as she did when she spent time with him, when they played together, when he held her. 

For a long while, she stayed right where she was, snuggling into him. His arms around her loosened a bit. Before she could form a worry about it, she felt his fingers begin to comb through the ends of her hair where it fell down her back.

Everything about him was comforting. She’d have been just fine with sitting there all evening while he petted her. It had to end eventually, though, she supposed.

“Belle?” he asked softly, lifting a hand to touch her cheek. “How are you feeling? All right?”

She licked her lips, doing her best to find a word or two for him. The tip of her tongue touched his clothes and she rubbed her face against him, feeling a little silly over it. 

“Mmm…” Words swam slowly up to the surface of her mind. “More than. ’M good, Sir.”

“Good,” he said, and something touched the top of her head. It took her a moment to put together that he’d kissed her. He went back to running his fingers along her skin.

She thought giddily of the things he’d done to her. It would be clearer later. She was too hazy-headed to think about it in any cohesive way just then, but she clung to the warm, golden aura of bliss that he had given her. 

“Thank you, Sir,” she murmured into his chest. 

A beat passed before he leaned his cheek against her hair. “You’re more than welcome, sweetheart.”

Belle enjoyed being held for a bit longer. She had to think about sitting up for a minute or two before she could make her body do what she wanted it to. Reluctantly, she leaned away from him. With the shift, she felt him finish slipping out of her, and she was left feeling too empty _again._ It made her want to fall right back against his chest.

Ian took one of her hands as they dropped between them, unbuckling the restraint around her wrist and laying it next to him. The metal bits on it clinked against the clamps he’d left there. Holding her hand in both of his, he brought it up to kiss her fingers, then took the other. After freeing it of the second restraint, he kissed that hand, as well.

“We can clean up when you’re ready,” he told her, tossing the suede cuffs into a box. “Only when you’re ready.”

“Needs a chain,” Belle said when he picked up the clover clamps.

He agreed. “Something to that effect. Something that can be easily tugged at,” he added as he sent them into the box with the restraints. 

Reaching out, she slipped her fingers into the armholes of his waistcoat, glad to be able to get her hands on him in return. “Now I’m hungry.”

“Dinner won’t take long.” He smiled up at her.

She nodded and pulled at his clothes. “I’m ready for cleaning up.”

He helped her from his lap, having her stand before he stood up beside her. Ian only stopped touching her to right his clothes. Aside from those few seconds, he kept in contact, whether it was a firm hold to steady her or a light touch at her back. His reassurance did more to finish bringing her down from the stratosphere than all the commands in the world could have.

“There’s a washroom just around the corner from the living room,” he said. “Do you want me to fetch some things, or would you like to come along?”

She hesitated, trying to consider what he’d prefer her do. “You wouldn’t mind if I went with you?”

“If I minded, I wouldn’t have asked,” he said, looking her in the eye. “Did you bring pajamas?”

A little knot of nerves that had been attempting to form in her stomach disappeared. She had told herself that it wasn’t as though he were going to disappear on her, being his own house, but his easy agreement helped.

“In my bag,” she told him.

Ian leaned past her to reach the bag she’d arrived with where she left it on the sofa. Sorting the things she brought to wear afterward as she pointed them out, he laid them across his arm. He bent to pick up the hand towel with the toys in need of cleaning, carrying them along in a bundle as he guided her to the bathroom.

Emotions ran high in their scenes, and she seemed particularly delicate afterward. He’d have done nigh anything to make her happy. The sentiment was only compounded by how much attention she needed and the protective instinct he felt toward her.

“Here, sit down,” he said, leading her over to the large, claw foot tub that took up a large niche at one side of the room. 

He caught the mild start she gave as her bare bottom touched the cold porcelain, but her smothered giggle took most of the seriousness out of his apology. Ian gave his hands a good wash before taking a couple of cloths down from the linen cupboard. From the corner of his eye, he could see how she looked around the bathroom, taking it all in just as she had when they walked into the living room. He wanted to feed the great dose of curiosity that he saw in her. He wanted to indulge it to the ends of the earth. 

With something quite like shock, he realized that her happiness made _him_ happy. It was true that one never forgot how good sex was, but after the length of time he’d spent without, he had forgotten just _how_ good it felt to be with someone who wanted to be with him. He hadn’t allowed himself to miss that and everything that went along with it.

Ian had her stand again and lean with her hands on the sink so that he could take the plug out of her. He removed it slowly, carefully, rubbing her lower back when she made a soft sound of discomfort.

“Still all right?” he asked, glancing over to drop the toy onto the hand towel with everything else to be looked after later.

She nodded, her hanging curls bouncing with the gesture. “Still all right, Sir.”

Taking the warm cloth from the edge of the sink, he helped her to wash up as usual. He tossed it into the open hamper to exchange it for the waiting cool cloth, sitting on the bathtub’s edge next to the spot she’d occupied.

“Sit down,” he said, touching her arm to guide her back.

Belle sat so that her knee pressed against his leg, wanting the point of constant contact even as he ran the wet washcloth over her flushed face and neck. The cool water always felt wonderful afterward. Her toes wriggled in the heavy, shag bath mat as he held the cloth to the back of her neck for a moment.

He threw this cloth into the clothes hamper next to the tub, too. “Stand up for me.”

“Up again,” she said. “Put your right foot in, put your right foot out-”

There was a smile in the corner of Ian’s mouth. “Cute,” he lilted, drawing the word out and reaching to give her nose a gentle tweak. “Now stand up.”

She caught her reflection in the mirror as she did what he said. Her hair was in the worst need of a comb, disgracefully wild, and the color in her cheeks was still high. She _looked_ well fucked. The idea that she could see it made her wonder if someone else could tell by looking, and it made her want to climb on top of Ian all over again.

Belle grinned to herself over her thoughts and stretched her arms out above her head.

He took her things from the counter, laying them over his thigh. “Are your wrists sore?”

“Not at all. My butt, though…” She pressed her lips together.

“Do you want something on it?” he asked as he opened her panties and held them down so that she could step into them. “I have aloe. If you like.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t say I wanted it gone.”

“As you wish.” He gave a glance at the panties and back up, prompting her. 

Resting her hands on his shoulders, she slipped one foot through and then the other. The marks on her backside burned as she moved her legs. Despite his careful attention to pulling her panties up and easing the leg elastic into place, it still hurt.

While he shook open the yellow, rose print pajama bottoms she’d brought along, her hands moved closer to his neck, giving in to the impulse to touch his hair. Belle stroked the ends that curled against his shirt collar between her fingertips. She’d always been told that gray hair was coarse, but she marvelled at how soft it was, how it felt in her fingers. 

Her touch seemed to cause him to hesitate in the process of turning her pajamas around the right way. He finally held them out and she stepped in. Ian looked up at her as he brought her pants over her hips, something almost startlingly worshipful in his eyes. 

Ian had to force his attention back to getting her dressed. It would have been too easy to close his eyes and lean his head back, to lose himself in the way she touched him. Allowing it would have meant baring his throat in more than one sense. He unbuttoned her pajama top across his lap and held it for her, feeling strangely unmoored when she had to take her hands away to turn and slide her arms into the sleeves. She turned to face him again once he had her shirt on her shoulders, and he began buttoning it. 

“How do you feel about pesto?” he asked, standing.

She brightened at his mention of food. “I feel pretty great about it.”

He extended a gesture of invitation toward the open door. Following when she stepped out into the hallway again, he rested a light hand low on her back, taking them back to the living room. While she fished a hair tie from her bag and pulled her hair back into something like a serviceable ponytail, he took her camisole and its ribbon from the armchair where he’d placed her clothes. 

Belle stood a bit out of the way, watching him move around the large kitchen to fetch things here and there. When he more or less settled around the cabinet next to the stove, she went over to lean next to him, watching as he made flames click to life in two burners on one side. He put on a pot of salted water, then poured oil into a saucepan to heat. While they worked on doing whatever he meant them to do, he leaned his hip against the counter and pulled her camisole from over his shoulder.

She observed for a moment before asking, “What are you doing?”

“I thought I’d help,” he said as he began putting the ribbon back through its eyelets on the garment’s front. “As I’m the one who pulled the ribbon out in the first place.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can do it.”

“I don’t mind.”

It took some fiddling to get the ribbon threaded. She watched his hands, remembering how they felt on her, how careful and rough they could be by turns. Her mind flitted back to Ian telling her that he didn’t believe she wouldn’t play by herself. 

“I really haven’t had an orgasm out of your presence since you instructed me not to,” she told him quietly.

He looked up at her, a touch of question on his face. “I know. I believe you.” 

She smiled and repeated what he had reassured her with before. “Just words during playtime.”

“Precisely.”

“Only meant as a turn-on.”

“That’s it.” He paused in what he was doing, taking a step closer to her so that he could put his arms around her, and he kissed the top of her head. “I trust you.”

Belle just enjoyed his hug for a few seconds before she tilted her head back in request of a kiss. He granted her one, catching her lower lip for a short, gentle kiss that made her insides buzz a little. 

By the time he’d finished fixing her camisole and giving it back to her, the oil was hot and he went back to the food. There was a bit more back and forth from the counter to the sink, but he eventually placed a couple of chicken breasts in the pan.

She slid closer, folding her arms on the counter edge. “Where did you learn to cook?”

“The, ah-” Ian glanced over to her, then back to the garlic he busied himself preparing. “The women who raised me taught me enough to get by.”

“Looks like you do more than get by,” she said, snitching a few pine nuts from a bowl to pop into her mouth. 

He shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve been single for most of my life. Only having a few meals to rely on gets tiresome, and takeout didn’t cut it. And I’m not overfond of going to restaurants alone,” he said before crushing another garlic clove under the flat of a large knife. “I took a good few cooking classes to sharpen myself up in the kitchen.”

“Well, personally, I’m glad you sharpened your cooking skills.” She took a few more pine nuts, grinning at him when he raised an eyebrow at her. “I’d be having microwave taquitos tonight if you weren’t making something.”

He was fairly certain she wasn’t teasing, and the thought of her resorting to _that_ dismayed him. It gave him the urge to clean her freezer and cabinets of such nonsense. He had to tell himself that what she ate on her own time was her choice.

“Belle, I have a question, if you’re all right answering it.”

“Yeah?” 

“Tell me about your period?” he asked. “When it comes ’round, how it affects you?”

“...You want to know?” Her expression turned oddly cautious.

He looked over at her, feeling the uncertainty in her response. “I feel I should, given the nature of our relationship.”

“Oh. Huh.” She went about fiddling with a storebought bowl of shaved Parmesan, though she kept glancing up at him. “Okay. I don’t really have much of one. My pill is continuous. I mean, sometimes there’s breakthrough, but not often.”

Ian nodded along as she went on, returning to his task of grinding garlic with a bit of salt. He made the occasional encouraging sound to keep her talking when she grew tentative over details.

She set the bowl back down where he’d put it and looked square up at him. “It doesn’t weird you out?”

“Hm?” He looked to her again. “No.”

“Most guys…” She shook her head.

He hummed shortly, scooping up the crushed garlic and tapping it off the knife into the pan with a wild hiss of oil. The noise prompted him to turn the flame down a little

“No, it doesn’t bother me,” he told her. “A dom who can’t stand to know about his submissive’s body has no business being a dom.”

Belle smiled. She moved closer once more to lean her hip into his, pleased when he bumped gently back against her. It was almost strange, being allowed to be open with him, feeling so comfortable with him. Feeling _safe_ with him. He continued to surprise her in the best of ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual aids:  
> [Belle’s outfit](https://ishtarelisheba.dreamwidth.org/file/904.jpg)  
> [paddle](https://ishtarelisheba.dreamwidth.org/file/1173.jpg) (nsfw)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt - _betweenpaperpages prompted: I just have this image in my head of Gold admiring the fading bruises and wanting to add a layer of new ones on top_ ]
> 
> Warnings: Mild anal play (butt plug), intense spanking, crawling, hair pulling, consensual name calling.

Belle cracked open the new bottle of raspberry lemonade from her fridge, pouring herself a glass full. She’d been busy all morning restoring the gauffered pattern around the edges of a book she had re-gilded earlier in the week. It was painstaking work that she tended to lose hours in, and she refused to have food or drink at her work table. She was hungry and thirsty, not to mention ready to be up and moving for a while.

She turned, bumping the refrigerator door closed with her butt, and winced as she hit a spot that was still nice and sore. There was an extremely enjoyable moment in which she relived the strike of the silicone paddle. The paddle, Ian’s hands on her, his leg over her pinning her down. Almost immediately, she found herself getting wet.

A full five days hadn’t passed since she last placed herself at his mercy, and she was aching for it. She wished like all hell that she could masturbate. Just to take the edge off until the weekend. Leaning a tender place near her hip against the kitchen counter, she took a long drink and wondered how much convincing it might take to get Ian to drop by after work.

A clatter from outside of her apartment broke the fantasy she’d begun building. Something breakable sounded as if it had bitten the dust. She drained the last gulp of lemonade from her glass and set it in the sink, going to indulge her curiosity.

Belle poked her head out to look into the hallway. A man stood bent over a large cardboard box with a terribly dented corner, apologizing profusely to someone else. An older teenager carrying a similar box passed by him. 

“You’re good, nothing priceless,” said a man with an easy smile and some heavy scruff. He carried a big, old fashioned typewriter case.

Well, apparently he was moving in down the hall from her. She’d wondered when she might get a neighbor. He wasn’t quite what she had imagined, though. 

“Hey, August,” someone called from the open apartment. “Where do you want that orange recliner?”

The man with the typewriter turned. “Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna move it around, anyway.”

He didn’t sound at all like a New England native. Somewhere on the West Coast, maybe. It wasn’t as though she could judge, but she did wonder what brought him to a small place like Storybrooke. 

The guy spied her peering out and he smiled again. “Hi there.”

“Hi!” Belle replied, feeling caught.

She ducked right back inside when he looked to a pair of men approaching with a sofa hefted between them. He _seemed_ okay enough. Still, though, she had second thoughts about after work playtime with so many people right outside her door. 

Her disappointment lasted only as long as it took her to come up with what felt like an even better plan. Belle padded through to the bedroom, shedding the pajamas she’d started her day in and considering what Ian might appreciate. She made a decision by the time she got to her closet.

The shoes were easy. He liked her strappier shoes, she could tell. She was well aware of how he looked at her when she wore them. She pulled a couple of things off their hangers before first poking through her lingerie drawer and then her toy drawer with a sly smile on her face. If she planned to surprise Ian, she decided that she may as well go the whole nine. She took out a small butt plug about the size of the one he’d been using on her. It had been cleaned and wrapped in its own cloth, the way she kept each of her toys, since it arrived. She hadn’t had an opportunity to put it to use. 

She was glad that she’d made time to go and get waxed. The only salon in town, The Just Right Day Spa, specialized in pretty much everything. As the owner, Goldie herself took care of waxing in a comfortable little room with a plaque that said ‘Grizzly Bare Studio’ on the wall next to it. Never one to let a good pun go unappreciated, Belle had been sure to give her a compliment on it before dropping trou and climbing onto the cushioned table.

Stepping into the bathroom, she washed up before considering the toy. Deciding to follow his order to the letter regarding touching herself for pleasure, Belle wet the plug with her mouth, sliding it between her lips. She leaned on the sink and took her time pushing the toy carefully inside. It was so much easier when Ian did it.

Lunchtime was a bit past, really, and she hurried to dress before going back out to the kitchen. She’d finally finished unpacking everything. There wasn’t a single moving box in sight. Her entire apartment felt better for it, she had to admit, and it meant that she knew where most of her things were. The picnic basket she had used all of twice was in the upper cupboard next to the stove. Taking it down, she dusted the fabric lining over the sink and carried it out with her.

With a stop by the supermarket, she gathered a few things that didn’t need any preparation and arranged it all in the basket in her car. She’d chosen some herby Italian bread that looked tasty, cheese and sliced chicken out of the deli, bread-and-butter pickles, and a couple of bottles of plain iced tea. It was neither cheap nor anything in the vicinity of her usual lunch, but it seemed like the kind of thing Ian might like.

Belle was glad to find that he hadn’t closed up to go out to eat. The door was open and a bell jingled above her as she went inside. She had passed by his shop many times during the months since moving into town, but for some reason she simply hadn’t gone inside. It reminded her a little of his home. Every surface was occupied. Shelves, counters, displays all held interesting pieces that she was certain had equally interesting histories behind them. She wandered idly along the glass display case to her left, peering in distraction at bits of pretty costume jewelry. 

Ian stepped out from the back room. He’d been working at repairing the stripped spring for a wind-up celluloid toy when he heard someone set the shop bell ringing. Going out to meet a customer would have been just fine, but finding Belle there was a far pleasanter surprise. 

He rested his hands along the edge of the register counter, leaning. Pleasant, indeed. Her long legs were bared by a pair of sunflower yellow shorts cut high on her thighs. The blue blouse she wore tucked haphazardly in was filmy, the material floating on every movement she made. As she moved closer, her attention on his jewelry displays, he could see more of her. The flowered heels she wore, their slender straps crossing her insteps and clinging around her ankles. The single, cream-colored pearl on a delicate golden chain, framed by the open neck of her shirt. She’d looped her ponytail, and it looked as though it had been that way all day. Wisps escaped along her temples, the ends hanging against the back of her neck.

“Do you see anything you like, miss?” he asked after another few seconds.

She squeaked and jumped. “Were you there the whole time?” she accused as she spun to face him, a hand at her chest. 

“Not quite,” Ian said, unable to hold back a bit of a toothy smile. “I was busy in the back.”

Belle gave him an admonishing look, walking up to place herself on the other side of the counter. She set her basket on it and nudged it close to him.

He regarded it with interest. “What have we here?”

“I brought lunch,” she told him, clearly proud of herself. 

In an instant, Ian made up his mind that he would eat whatever she’d brought him, regardless of its condition or provenance. The expression on her face was too sweet for him to hurt her feelings over what she had obviously put effort into.

“In that case, I’m glad I put off eating.” He reached for her hand, taking it in his and bowing his head to press a kiss to her fingers. “What did you bring for us?”

She pressed her lips together the way she did when she tried to contain just how pleased she was. Flipping open the basket’s lid, she peered inside as though she didn’t know precisely what she had.

“I tried to find things I thought you’d like,” she said, glancing up at him. 

He looked in at the wrapped deli packages nestled into the red and white gingham liner. “I’m certain I will. You’ve done an excellent job,” he praised as he reached in, bringing out the bottles of tea. 

Belle felt a similar warmth in her cheeks and deep in her belly. She propped her elbows on the glass counter. “I _was_ going to call and invite you over after work, order in…”

“Oh?” he asked when she didn’t go on right away. “And something changed your mind?”

She pinched at the inside of her cheek with her teeth before admitting, “Apparently I now have a neighbor.”

His gaze flicked back up to her face. The raised eyebrow he gave her in response to the news reflected much how she felt about it, herself.

“So, rather than inviting me over tonight,” he began, his eyes narrowing in such suspicion that it made her shift her weight between her feet, “and your _new neighbor_ hearing anything, you decided to come here.”

“That… might have had something to do with it?” Belle broke eye contact with him, her cheeks prickling with heat. The short time they’d known one another, and he knew her too well for her to get away with much of anything. 

Ian placed his hand over hers on the glass countertop. “You know how loud you get, hm?”

“Oh, you like how loud I get,” she said more quietly.

“Yes,” he agreed, circling her wrist with his fingers. “I do.”

It wasn’t an innocent picnic she’d dropped by for, but Ian had known that as soon as he saw her. He’d have been perfectly happy if she had. Though, if it was a bit of afternoon play she was looking for, it wasn’t as if he would turn her down. What she wanted, he would give. 

“You came by to be used.” He held onto her hand until she looked up at him again. Her breath shuddered, and he leaned in. “Didn’t you, slut?”

Belle’s stomach flipped pleasantly. Drawing her lower lip between her teeth, she gave him a small nod.

“I want you to go back to the front of the shop. Turn the sign, lock the door, close the blinds.” He let his hand slide away from hers when he’d finished his instructions.

Her smile broadened until it pulled her lip free. “Yes, Sir,” she said as she turned to do as she was told.

She switched the sign to ‘closed’ and turned the deadbolt with a heavy _click._ The door blinds were easy, but those over the larger display windows took her a moment of fiddling. When she turned back to Ian, he waited for her near the curtained doorway that lead into the back room.

He brushed the brocade curtain aside, catching it on a scrolled curtain hook, and left the main shop. “Bring your picnic basket along and come with me.”

Belle went to the counter, returning the tea to its spot in the basket’s corner, and grabbed the handle to take it with her as she followed Ian. The shop’s back room was more cluttered than the front. There were work tables with things in the middle of repair, shelves filled to the brim with curious pieces, rows of antique books, some of which she knew for a fact were older than any she’d personally ever laid hands on.

“Find me something to spank you with,” he instructed, watching as she looked around.

She glanced with interest at the table nearest her and set the basket down on it. “Is there anything off-limits, Sir?”

A smirk twitched in the corner of his mouth. “I’ll let you know if your decision isn’t feasible.” 

Ian knew there were some things around that would give a good swat. He waited, watching her entertain and discard ideas. She lingered over a big, circular butter press with a carved thistle design and a heavy handle. It would have made an interesting mark, but she passed it by. There was a wooden sparring sword leant against the side of a bookcase that she considered, and a worn leather razor strop he’d have needed more space to get a proper swing from, but she finally settled on something.

She brought a folding carpenter’s ruler over to him. It hailed from the 50s, heavy and sturdily made, and it would give a good, solid whack to her backside. He approved.

“A good choice,” Ian said, taking the ruler when she offered it. He took a step over to the nicely sized cot that sat against the lefthand wall, shedding his suit jacket and laying it across the end before sitting down on the edge. 

“You have a bed back here, Sir?” Belle teased.

It seemed more than something makeshift. The cot was made up well, with a pretty damask blanket spread over it and a pillow in a crisp white case propped at the end, like something that saw more use than emergencies.

“Mm,” he hummed. “There’s been the occasional night when I didn’t bother going home.”

As she moved to stand in front of him, he tested the ruler on his palm for the feel and weight of its strike. The sound of it against his hand made her stomach flip again. 

He turned it over against his palm, inspecting it. “Which end do you want to be spanked with?”

She eyed the ruler, having to think about it for a few seconds. The end that opened up would be ideal - it was what he tested out on his hand. At the joined end, there was a hinged metal cap that would have a bite to it. _That_ interested her, but it might be too much for the lunchtime play they were after. 

“That side,” she decided, pointing to the wooden end.

Ian looked her slowly up and down, admiring once more how she’d chosen to dress herself for him. “Take off your blouse.”

Without hesitation, she pulled the hem out from the waist of her shorts, crossing her arms to strip her shirt off over her head. Her doubled ponytail flopped as it fell back down. She dropped the fluttery material to his shop floor and he smiled, presented with her bare breasts just above eye level. Did she _ever_ wear a bra, he wondered, or was this lack of one when they got together for his benefit? He admired the snug fit of her shorts around her hips and backside as she popped open the button to shimmy them down some.

Setting the ruler next to him, he took Belle’s hand, helping her to lie across his lap. She rested on her stomach and squirmed a bit this way and that until she’d made herself comfortable. Ian brought the pillow closer for her. Wrapping her arms around to plump it, she rested her head to one side so that she could see him.

He worked her shorts down farther, inordinately pleased to find a pair of pretty blue panties hiding beneath them. The back wasn’t much more than a set of ribbons topped near the small of her back by a bow. He needed only a glance at her face to see that their effect on him was very much intended. She grinned cheerfully back at him.

Ian touched her exposed skin between the ribbons. He could see marks on her in the open spaces, a couple of slight abrasions, but for the most part the lightened purple of healing bruises. Pulling the panties down below her arse cheeks, he ran his fingers along them, pressing into her soft, fleshy curves, feeling her flinch and moan. They _were_ lovely marks. He looked forward to adding a layer of new ones on top of them.

He pushed her shorts and panties together down her thighs. Belle bent her knees, bringing her feet up to help, and he caught a hand around one of her ankles. He took his time in slipping open the tiny buckles, easing the straps off her feet, holding her still as he removed one shoe and then the other. She left her feet in the air after he at last got her clothes pulled up and off them.

Her toes wiggled in his peripheral vision while he separated her panties from her shorts. He dropped the latter aside and folded her panties into a smallish square.

“I don’t imagine the shop is quite as isolated as we might be accustomed, when it comes to certain sounds,” he pointed out, holding the lacy blue square nearer her face. “Open your mouth.”

She opened her mouth automatically, then closed it in a pout, her legs dropping again.

“Open,” he warned, touching her lips with her panties. She obeyed and he pushed them inside. “There we go. Now you can shout and cry all you like.”

He slapped her bottom, making her squeak through her makeshift gag. As he petted her again, without her shorts holding her legs together, he got a glimpse of something between her cheeks. Holding them apart, he found the base of a small, marbled pink plug.

“My, my,” Ian said, taking hold of the base and giving it a gentle tug. “Look at you. Full of surprises today, aren’t you?”

She replied with a muffled whine that went up in pitch as he pulled at the toy, watching as she stretched around the widest part of it. He held it there for a moment before allowing it to pull itself back into place. 

“Ah, but it was a spanking you were after.” He picked up the ruler and stroked it against the full curve of her pretty arse. Arousal already had her growing breathless. “Sweet little slut, aren’t you, bringing yourself over in the middle of the week, _begging_ for it. I’m not sure I’ve ever had such a treat.”

He drew the ruler away, dragging the end along her skin before he brought it back down across both cheeks, giving her a solid strike at perhaps half strength. Belle squawked and hugged the pillow more tightly. The heavy implement made a most satisfying _crack_ against her backside. She looked at him with wide eyes, an edge of lace peeking out between her lips. 

The ruler left a pair of pink lines rising on her. Ian considered them before he gave her another. If he took care, he might leave her a pattern to enjoy. Gauging where the next would land, he swatted her again, lining the marks up more or less evenly as he could. 

Keeping his pace even, he warmed her backside with a few more middling spanks. She gave him a series of stifled and desperate sounds, but he had to give her credit for otherwise managing to keep still. Her bottom was pinking up nicely all over. He had an excellent striping effect going, and he fully intended to bring it into far sharper relief. His strikes grew gradually harder until each shook right through her. 

After the ruler met her arse with a particularly hard slap, she buried her face in the pillow. He took his hand from where it rested firmly between her shoulderblades and wrapped his fingers up in her hair, ruining her ponytail in the process of pulling her head back. 

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he demanded.

As soon as she met his gaze again, Ian gave her a series of more severe strikes, concentrating on the lower curve. It spoiled the evenness of the fetching stripes he’d been giving her, but she was near enough the edge of breaking that a few more would send her right over. 

Belle’s eyelids fluttered. Her eyes practically rolled back in her head before squeezing shut. He gave her one after another across the same spot, blistering her shapely little backside and counting an even dozen just as she twisted her hips against the pain. She keened deep in her throat, the full sound not making it through her impromptu gag, and he saw tears spring up to fall down her cheeks. 

He let go of her hair, dropping the ruler onto the blanket next to him. Without allowing her a lengthy chance to compose herself, he took hold of her arms to bring her up from his lap and got her feet on the floor, standing with her. With a hand wrapped around her left upper arm, Ian marched her over to the corner across from the table he’d been working at when she arrived.

She still snubbed softly with tears, but she stayed where he put her. 

“You could just as well have called, made arrangements, waited until after work,” he said quietly from behind her. “You’re standing in the corner so that you can take some time to think about why you came down to my shop. Why you, for some reason, couldn’t wait ’til the weekend.”

Ian gave her bottom a sharp pat with his hand. She squeaked and sniffled.

“Ten minutes,” he declared as he turned to walk away from her. She started to look back at him and he caught the movement. “Eyes to the corner. Look again and I’ll double your time.”

He went to his work table and sat on the stool behind it, sorting out where he had been when he’d heard the shop bell. It would take less than ten minutes to complete the repair. She would be all right.

Ian didn’t attempt to keep his fiddling quiet. He intended the noise to reassure her that he remained there. Keeping an eye on the wall clock’s minute hand, he replaced the spring that already sat by and began closing the wind-up.

Between the searing sting across her bottom and the way her pussy throbbed and the haze of arousal so heavy that she couldn’t put a coherent thought together, Belle struggled to keep still. Her mind felt as if it were slinking from one sensation to the other without lingering on any for long enough to grasp at it. She couldn’t reliably count seconds to keep up with the minutes Ian had her in the corner. A knife edge of frustration kept her from stopping her tears, which frustrated her all the more. 

But she could hear Ian in the room behind her. He did something, clicking, small sounds of metal on metal and plastic, and it was an odd sort of comfort. He was right there. 

She waited what seemed like an eternity, staring into the corner of his shop with its wooden walls, shelves filled with his things to either side of her. He did have to put her in a blank corner with nothing to distract her from the condition she was in. She could _feel_ how empty and wanting her cunt was. The heat he’d left on her ass made it all the worse. She wanted his fingers, his cock, anything he would give her. She was dying to be allowed to come.

As soon as the minute hand clicked over its last mark, Ian got up, stepping around his table. He held back, watching her for a few seconds longer. 

She stood there, naked and exceptionally well spanked, her backside brazen in an array of shades between vivid and rich, purpled red. He’d done a good job of marking her. Her breathing and sniffles had calmed somewhat. He could see how subtly she alternated her weight between her feet, and he wondered if she knew that she did it. Her arms hung down by her sides, fingers twitching to tap anxiously at the outside of her thighs. How beautiful she was.

He curled a hand around her arm, bringing her gently backward so that she had a chance to adjust her steps. “Your ten minutes are up,” he said, turning her to face him.

Belle’s eyes were still glazed, her eyelashes still wet. She blinked up at him. Her cheeks and lips flushed bright, and her ponytail was pulled wildly off center, pieces of hair hanging around her face. The bit of blue lace that poked out from her mouth was darker now, damp with saliva. He considered taking it out but decided to leave it a few minutes longer. 

Ian touched her cheek, fingers stroking through a half-dry tear streak. He brushed a piece of hair behind her ear on the opposite side. “Do you feel all right?” he asked softly, giving her a yes or no question. When she nodded, he gave her one more. “All right to go on?”

She looked him in the eyes and gave a stronger nod. He brought his face very near her own. Her hands had gone still, pressing flat against her thighs, and she tilted her face up as though expecting a kiss.

He had something else she would enjoy, though. “Down on the floor. Hands and knees.”

She did as he said without hesitation, dropping herself at his feet. 

“Now. You’re going to crawl back into the front of the shop,” he said, smiling down at her. “I’ll be behind you, admiring the view.”

Doing just as he promised, he followed. Ian watched the sway of her hips as she crawled, grinning at the wetness shining high on her thighs and all over the peek of pussy that he could see each time she brought a knee forward. He’d been hard since she began hinting at what she wanted after coming in. Entertaining thoughts about what he was going to do with her up against his register counter had his cock straining against the front of his trousers. 

Belle went slowly along the wooden floor, hyperaware of her body, of every muscle she moved and inch she crawled, and of Ian right at her toes. The stretch of moving such a way just after a thorough spanking made her backside hurt so much more, and that pain emphasized the feeling of the plug in her ass. She could feel every single welt he’d left across her skin, and it was beyond wonderful. The combination of physical sensations and touch of embarrassment in being made to crawl ahead of him had her so turned on that she could hardly coordinate herself.

“Stop,” he said when they reached the outside of register counter. He leaned down, bringing two fingers up beneath her chin. “Open.”

She obeyed. He took the damp square of her folded panties out of her mouth and tucked them into his pocket. Moving his hand to reach back, he grabbed a good handful of her hair and pulled her head back so that she looked up at him.

After a moment during which his gaze roamed over her face and body, he asked, “Do you know what you look like?”

She had to pull in a breath before she could speak. “Yes, Sir.”

“What? Tell me, what do you look like?”

“A whore, Sir.” There were still tears staining her face, but she smiled almost drunkenly. 

“A whore,” he repeated. “And now you’re going to do what a whore does. Up. Stand up.” 

It felt as though it took her far too long to get her feet under her. She was more wobbly than she thought. He kept his hand fisted in her hair, his traction on it increasing as she rose, though he never yanked.

“Bend over the counter. Legs apart,” he commanded. “I know that cunt’s been wet since you walked into my shop. Don’t pretend.”

He steered her between himself and the counter, pushing her forward to encourage her to bend over it. The pearl on her necklace clicked against the glass a fraction of a second before her breasts pressed to the cold surface. Her nipples became erect so quickly they ached.

She felt Ian press up against her from behind. The fabric of his trousers rubbed along the marks on her backside, making her flinch and hiss at the pain that flashed through her. His hands kneaded at her hips for a while before he slid one back, below her ass and between her legs, cupping his fingers over her pussy and then giving it a firm pat.

Belle whimpered, gasping under her breath, “Please… please…”

“Please _what?”_

Her thoughts stuttered over his question. The pleading had been an automatic response, her mind blank with need. “Please, Sir?”

He chuckled behind her. “Well, that’s a lovely correction, but what are you ‘please’-ing for?”

“Please fuck me. Please- fuck me, Sir?”

“That’s what you visited for, isn’t it? You couldn’t wait, what, two more days?”

Ian drew his hand back, his fingers gliding easily into her slit, his fingertips teasing at her entrance. The sensation made her pussy clench at nothing. 

She dropped her forehead to the countertop with a thump. _“Please,_ Sir!”

“Is this what drove you to come over?” He took his hand away and gave it back to her by giving her mound a slap. “You made some thin excuse, hoping I might use this needy little cunt?”

“Yes, yes, yes, please, please…” Belle breathed the string of words. Begging was easy, the state she was in. She’d have done anything he asked to have him inside her _now._ “Please, Sir, please use me?”

He bumped at her feet with the toe of his shoe, urging her stance wider until leaning on the counter was all that kept her balance. She very nearly cried in relief when she heard the zip as he undid his trousers. He pushed them down with his underwear, exposing himself, and she felt his hard cock nudge up against her ass.

Ian leaned over her, the warmth of his body even through his shirt and waistcoat giving her goosebumps. He spoke near her ear. “I’m going to watch you walk back to your car with my come running down your thighs.”

His promise made her whine in desperation. She felt herself clenching again in anticipation of him, and her bottom attempted to push itself back into him. He gave her ass another slap over the crease below the cheek where he’d ended her spanking so spectacularly. She couldn’t help the broken shriek that it shocked out of her. 

“Am I going to regret taking that gag out too soon?” he asked, letting his cock nudge up against her slick labia. 

She shook her head as best she could, her forehead still in contact with the cool glass. “No, Sir, no.”

When he reached to guide himself into place, he used only the head of his cock on her at first. She could practically feel herself going mad when he went no farther. He let the head barely press inside, holding there, and her body didn’t at all appreciate the tease. She grunted, trying again to thrust back against him.

“Stay still,” Ian told her, holding her hip with his free hand. “There’ll come a time for you to wiggle your arse, but now is not it.”

With an agonizing slowness, he pushed in, burying himself deep inside her, and she could hear as he grew breathless. Good. Maybe he would snap and fuck her properly, then. 

But he _didn’t._ It was almost more torturous than the denial he had her suffering in between their dates. She was so close to getting that release, and it seemed as if she’d never be allowed it.

She felt so full of him, and she had so little traction with her legs spread wide apart as they were. The awareness of being at Ian’s mercy sent a thrill of excitement up the middle of her back. His body was hot against her, and he remained inside her without moving. She tried to tilt her hips to feel more - his hands wouldn’t let her.

Her eyes burned with tears of frustration by the time he began to move. He withdrew, long and slow, and hitched back into her hard. The result was a glorious combination of him colliding with the stripes on her ass and his cock filling her again all at once, and she bit the heel of her thumb to stifle her scream over how incredible _everything_ felt. 

As he picked his speed up, each thrust bumped the butt plug she’d worn for him, adding an entirely different sensation to the mix. His hands tightened around her hips, holding her so that she didn’t push forward as he fucked her, giving her a solid impact every time. Each slam into her was a perfect combination of pain and pressure and pleasure that had her moaning loudly into her hand.

Belle slid her fingers far into her mouth, to the back of her tongue, sucking at them in part to quiet herself and in part because she missed getting to suck Ian’s cock. It wasn’t particularly satisfying in that respect, but it was something. And of course he caught her right away.

“Have to have something in your mouth, don’t you?” he grit through a tight jaw, his words strained as he spoke while he fucked her. “We’ll see how eager you are to suck cock this weekend.”

Ian’s right hand moved, resting between her shoulderblades before sliding higher, coming to rest over the back of her neck. His fingers were warm and insistent, pressing her against the countertop. The way he held her sent the flicker of orgasm that built deep in her belly escalating into a blaze that begged for release. It threatened to burn through without her - and more importantly, _his_ \- permission.

She pulled her wet fingers out of her mouth and a shaky gasp escaped after them.

“Don’t you dare,” Ian rasped, giving her a particularly rough thrust and holding still there. His accent was thick and heavy, and it sent electricity sparking through her body. “You don’t get to come until I allow it. Do you understand me?” 

She didn’t feel as far gone as she usually became during their more drawn out evenings, but she still had to work to make the words surface and leave her tongue. “Yes, Sir…”

He pulled back, thrusting in again so fast it made her yelp, before setting up a hard, even rhythm that skirted the edge of hurting in the most delicious way. His thumb stroked upward to press behind her ear and she felt herself begin to shake with the effort of holding back.

Belle’s hands scrabbled at the counter, her fingertips skidding along the glass. Her moan came out a stuttering sound under the intensity of his thrusts. She clutched at the polished wooden edge of the countertop, whimpering, feeling too untethered, and it took far too long to dawn on her to ask Ian’s help.

 _“Please,_ Sir,” she pled thinly, reaching back toward him, grasping at his waistcoat. 

He moved his hands from her hip and neck to take hold of hers, blessedly understanding what she needed. Folding her arms behind her and wrapping his hands tightly around her crossed wrists, he used the grip as leverage to pound harder into her. Being further reined in left her thoughts less frantic. It was a good thing and bad - at once allowing her to give herself wholly to what Ian did with her body, and now having no distraction at all from it. 

The feeling in her belly flew past begging and _demanded._ She didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t allowed, but if he went on like this, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to help it. Her orgasm verged so closely that she could feel her insides tensing, and she dug her nails into her palms.

She groaned, the sound leaving her throat before she could speak. “Oh, God, Sir, I’m going to come!” 

Ian stopped again, pushing his cock deep, which didn’t make anything better. He took one hand from her wrists and slid it across her side, to her front and then down to her vulva. His hand left her skin, then returned with a sharp, shocking _slap._ She cried out.

“No, you aren’t,” he told her, and she could hear an edge to his voice. “You orgasm before I give permission and you’ll have a punishment waiting for you on the other side of it. One you won’t enjoy.”

She pressed her cheek to the cold glass beneath her. “Sir, I can’t-”

“You can. You’ll control yourself. Won’t you?” He leaned, and she could feel just how short of breath he was when he pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. 

His kiss gave her a pleasant shiver. She nodded without lifting her head. “Yes, Sir.” 

“Your orgasms belong to me. It’s a gift when you receive one.”

“A gift. They belong to you, Sir.” Belle whimpered the words out, her hands curling and uncurling in his grip. 

She didn’t know how, but she managed not to come. Even as he petted her pussy, even as he pressed his fingers into her slit, she felt as though she might die, but she held it back.

“Not yet,” he said. “Not yet. Hold onto it. Not until I say.”

His slow strokes alongside her clit turned a bit faster, until she trembled and sobbed with the effort of holding her orgasm back. Her toes curled against the floor until the soles of her feet threatened to cramp.

She felt him brush another kiss over the nape of her neck, then the warmth of his breath as he told her, “Come hard for me.”

Her orgasm wracked through her and she heard herself scream. She could feel her cunt clench helplessly around him. He grunted, thrusting into her only twice more before he came, and she felt his cock pulse as he filled her. 

When she whined with overstimulation from his fingers, he drew them back to pet her mound. His fingers slid along either side of her slit and the air was suddenly cool across the wetness that had been spread all over between her legs. After a few more moments, he slipped out of her. She could feel as his come trickled out and down the inside of her left thigh, and though she didn’t have the energy to show it outside of her thoughts quite yet, she was absolutely lightheaded with joy. It was the happiest and most peaceful she’d felt in _years._

Ian let go of her wrists to rest his hands at her hips. “Can you stay there? Are you steady?” he asked with real worry that she couldn’t.

“Mmm,” she answered. It occurred to her that it wasn’t much in the way of reassurance.

He stepped back from her. One of his hands hesitated to leave her hip, but she was fine to lean on the counter, and he was there where she could see as he righted his clothing. 

When he’d finished, he rubbed the small of her back. “All right, darling. We need to get you up and to the back.”

“Mm-mm,” Belle hummed in protest. “Good here.”

Snorting softly, he laughed. “I think not. Come on.”

He eased her up from the counter with a minimum of awkwardness. She was a little stiff from staying in the position he’d put her in, not to mention sore in more ways than one. He held onto her arm, guiding her toward the back of his shop. She stumbled before they reached the curtain and he wrapped an arm securely around her waist.

“Was I that hard on you?” he murmured, and she could actually hear the worry this time. 

“God, no,” she said, and even to her, the giggle that followed it sounded a tad loopy. “That good. Very, very good. Good, Sir.”

He smiled down at her, one corner of his mouth tugging higher, and she let her head loll against his shoulder. When he had her back to the side of the cot, he helped her to ease down, to lie on her side. Somehow the makeshift bed was twice as soft as the first time she touched it. She felt lured toward sleep. When he sat at the edge, she curled close to him.

For a long while, he simply petted her. He ran a hand over her hair, making her drowsiness irresistible, before moving to rub her back in firm strokes that pressed into the muscles. With him close and herself safe, she let her eyes close.

Ian was so fond of her, felt _so_ much toward her, he could barely think a single, linear thought in her presence. He longed to tell her, to lay out what he felt. He wasn’t certain he could even make it clear to himself, though. At this point, in this moment, he worried that it would be too strange for her to hear it from him. 

There were words tripping over themselves at the tip of his tongue, practically demanding that he say them, and he clenched his jaw against them. They would chase her away. And he was nothing if not selfish enough to swallow them in an effort to keep her for as long as he could. 

He leaned to kiss her cheek, nuzzling there after it before he sat back. “Belle?” he said softly, and she took a deep breath, opening her eyes. “I’m going to fetch something to clean you up.”

Her voice was soft and sleepy when she answered him. “I brought wet wipes. Wasn’t sure you’d have anything.”

“Well, I have a washroom, don’t I?” He gave her nose a gentle tap with his fingertip. “We’ll use what you’ve brought, though.”

Ian crossed to the work table where she’d left her basket. He had a good look at the label once he fished the packet out of the picnic basket’s side; it couldn’t hurt to keep some around for her, just in case. Anything that would make her more comfortable.

He sat next to her again, turned to better face her, and peeled open the package cover to pull out a wipe. “Ready?” he asked.

With a grumble that followed right after with a smile, she opened her legs without moving the rest of her. He washed carefully between them, wiping away the wetness he’d spread over her with his fingers. 

“Don’t clean _all_ of it?” Belle said with an almost shy smile as he moved to clean the inside of her thighs. “I want to keep it there. While I, um… for the rest of the day.”

A twitch of eyebrows betrayed his surprise. “Oh?”

“Like you said, you wanted to watch me walk back to my car with your come on me,” she reminded him.

A flush colored his cheeks. The things they did, and he could still blush. She loved him. 

The thought startled her. She didn’t know what to do with it, and it refused to be pushed back.

He washed just a bit up her thigh, leaving part of the drip of come there, as she’d asked. “What about this?” he asked, sliding his fingers between her ass cheeks. He gave the plug’s base a half turn, and she made a soft noise at the sensation. “Do you want it to stay in? Out?”

“Out, Sir,” she whispered. “Please.”

She buried her face in the pillow as he pulled the plug out of her. If he’d had another go at her, she could have so easily come again. 

“I’ll clean it and return it to you on Friday,” he said. “If that’s all right.”

Turning her head so that she could speak, she agreed. “More than all right.”

He wrapped the plug in a wipe and set it down, then used another to clean her hip, where he’d certainly left a number of sticky fingerprints. With one last, Ian cleaned his hands. 

Belle lifted a hand to her hair, searching for the ponytail holder in the mess of it. She found it, but apparently there was no convincing it to come out without bringing part of her scalp with it. A grump and a cringe of discomfort later, Ian guided her hand away and began fussing with the elastic, himself.

She let her leg down to curl with the other again. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course not.” He tilted his head more to the angle of hers on the pillow, giving her another smile. “Any excuse to get my hands in your hair.” 

It didn’t take him long at all to work the elastic free. Patience probably had something to do with it, she imagined. That and a better view. He worked slowly, teasing out the tangles he’d caused as he encountered them until she didn’t feel any more resistance when he ran his fingers through. 

“I’ll be back in a minute. Need to see to myself,” Ian said, taking the soiled wet wipes with him when he got up from the edge of the cot.

He ducked into the washroom to tidy his person a bit better and wash up. Though he didn’t keep washcloths at his shop, he did have hand towels, and that would do. Before stepping out again, he soaked one with cool water and wrung it just damp, taking the handle of the basket on his way back to Belle. Well past one, now, it was about time they ate. 

Ian sat with her, setting the picnic basket on the cot behind them until he could wash her face. She sighed at the touch of the cool towel. The flush in her face and across her chest had begun to calm, and she seemed more awake by the time he dropped the towel aside. Opening the basket up, he took one of the bottles of iced tea - not quite cold, unfortunately, after their playtime - and offered it to her.

Belle leaned up on her elbow, taking the bottle with no small amount of relief. Her mouth was dry and it seemed as though every muscle in her body burned. She took a long drink of tea, feeling parched all the way to her toes.

She watched over her shoulder while he brought the food out. He opened the deli paper packages, laying them on the cot next to her picnic basket, arranging it all somewhat. Ian paid so much attention to detail. Nibbling absently at her lower lip, she tried to imagine how his attentiveness would translate to the playroom he was putting together. 

“Can you sit up?” he asked, popping open his own bottle. “If you’re still too sore-”

Belle teased him with a soft scoffing sound. “I can sit just fine.”

Gingerly, she sat up, folding her legs in front of her. She was unable to help a wince when a fold in the blanket pressed into the welts beneath the curve of her ass. It smarted again when she reached to pull the fold flat. Ian, for his part, said nothing smug. The smile he didn’t manage to hide said quite enough. He reached behind her to pull the blanket away from the head of the cot and drape it around her. The blanket laid on top of her hair where it curled down over her shoulders, but she couldn’t be bothered to fix it. Ian seemed to have a similar thought. He curled a hand between her neck and her hair, slipping it free.

“Did you have a nice time?” he said without a trace of the sarcasm she’d have expected from someone else.

She shifted, trying to make her backside more comfortable. “I did. But I always do. With you. It’s _always_ nice with you.”

“Good.” His eyes searched her face, as if he were making certain she told him the whole truth. “Good. So did I.”

“So, you don’t mind I came over?” she asked. “Without warning?”

“Of course I don’t mind. I’m flattered that you decided you couldn’t wait until Friday.” He held a piece of cheese near her lips. “You can come over anytime you like. Here, the house.”

“Careful. I might take you up on that.” She opened her mouth to accept the bite of food. 

The back of Ian’s forefinger brushed against her bottom lip before he pulled his hand back. “That _would_ be the purpose of the invitation.”

He fed her piece after piece of food right from his fingers, occasionally having a bite for himself. As tired as she was, she had to admit to herself that it really did feel nice, him feeding her. It was somehow the most romantic meal she’d ever participated in. 

“I, um…” Belle began around a bite of chicken he’d placed in her mouth. She gestured vaguely toward her head. “I liked the way you controlled me by my hair. Just so you know.”

He grinned. “Did you? It was heat of the moment. I hoped it wasn’t too far, but you responded well.”

She giggled a little self-consciously, looking down as she pulled his blanket closer around her. “I responded, yeah,” she said, unable to explain to him precisely what it did to her when he grabbed her hair. 

“How do you feel about being leashed?” he asked, clearing his throat softly after the question. “Leashes, play collars, that sort of thing?” 

Belle’s heart gave a flip that made her head spin all over again. “I feel good about them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual aids:  
> [Belle’s picnic outfit](https://ishtarelisheba.dreamwidth.org/file/5567.jpg)  
> [antique ruler](https://ishtarelisheba.dreamwidth.org/file/1700.jpg)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mild anal play (butt plug), mild exhibitionism, orgasm denial, consensual name calling, intercrural sex, deep throat, breast spanking.

He’d told her only that the dress code was semi-formal when he called on Wednesday night. ‘Semi’ was good, since she just had the one _really_ nice outfit. The dress and shoes were a few years old, one of those indulgences she had to save up for, and she’d never done more than try them on a couple of times to admire them in the mirror. It wasn’t as though she ever had anywhere to wear them. 

If she hadn’t owned something appropriate, Belle pretty well figured that Ian would have treated her to a dress. A man didn’t spend an ungodly amount of money on an entire playroom and then deny you a dress. That… wasn’t what she wanted, though. 

The dress was the kind that made her feel good just to have it on. It didn’t _give_ her confidence, she was well aware, but she sure as hell felt more self-assured when she wore it. Longer than she enjoyed wearing for everyday, the hem of the full skirt hit below her knees. The royal blue brushed satin had a lush sheen to it, and the notched neckline made it okay that she didn’t have a necklace fancy enough to go along. Her shoes, searched out to match, were detailed with gold on the heels and around the front sole. Ian had asked her, too, to wear stockings, and she was more than happy to obey.

Maybe it was a silly thought anywhere except the inside of her own head, but in that dress, with a fancy braid in her hair, she felt a lot like a princess. It was a rare feeling for her.

Every concern regarding how Ian would like it fizzled away when she opened her apartment door on his knock. He looked for a few seconds to have forgotten how his mouth worked.

“Even more ravishing than usual,” he said at last, managing not to sound quite as gobsmacked as his expression was. He turned it into a warm leer. “Panties?”

“And stockings.” She swished her skirt back and turned a leg to show him.

Ian moved so that she could step out into the hallway. “Good girl.”

The effect that those two words coming out of his mouth had on her was just shy of ridiculous, but she loved hearing them more than she could ever explain. With them, he made her feel wanted and appreciated, and proud that he thought it of her. They did other things to her, as well.

“Thank you, Sir.” Belle felt heat rise in her cheeks and she fought the urge to fan at it. She left her apartment and took his arm, pulling the door closed behind them. “Are we playing tonight? Or is this mysterious semi-formal thing business only?”

“Hm.” The sound was noncommittal and the glint in his eyes less so. “Time will tell.”

She smiled over at him. “You just want to keep me on pins and needles, that’s all.”

The drive was short. They could have walked from her apartment building, really. There was barely time to get through a round of “How was your day?” and “Are you working on a new book?” before they pulled up to a big house, white with blue shutters and a walk braced by manicured hedges. Cars lined both sides of the street.

“A party?” she asked, eyeing him a bit askance.

“Not that sort.” Ian grinned without looking as he parked in an open space near the end of the driveway, glad that it was near as it was. “I wouldn’t take you to a play party without telling you beforehand.”

There was tension in her that Belle hadn’t known gathered until it left. “Just a regular, everyday party.”

“A fundraiser,” he clarified. “All told, I’m here to deliver a check. We can leave anytime you like.”

She pressed the button to release her seatbelt. “Two days is pretty short notice for an invitation to a fundraiser.”

“I wasn’t certain you’d want to come along,” he said, and she could tell that he meant the comment to sound offhand, but there was something almost hesitant beneath it.

“You haven’t invited me to a place yet that I’ve turned down,” Belle pointed out.

The corner of his mouth twitched. His eyes softened as he looked to her. “Shall we go in?”

“I suppose I’m ready if you are.”

“I am not. Unfortunately, in this case, that doesn’t matter.”

It wasn’t until they made their way up the herringbone front walk, her hand on his arm, that she asked, “You don’t enjoy this sort of thing?”

“Not in the least,” Ian replied quickly.

“Oh.” She squeezed his arm against her. “Well. Maybe we can find a way to change that.”

The fundraiser was being thrown for what were oh so diplomatically called ‘displaced children’ on the informational pictures that faded in and out on a flatscreen over the fireplace. Every wealthy socialite within a hundred miles was there, it seemed. Belle found herself giving them _some_ benefit of the doubt, though - everyone appeared concerned with the subject of the evening, and there was no shortage of discussion. She didn’t hear a single disparaging word. Whether that was simply up to the host’s choice in attendees, she wasn’t sure. What she did know was that Ian’s face remained the only familiar one in the crowd.

All she had to do was smile and nod and provide the occasional sentiment regarding how pleasant to meet someone it was. Ordinarily, that would have gotten on her nerves a bit in a vanilla environment, doing and having nothing more expected of her than being a pretty attachment to someone’s arm. The party’s landscape was so alien, however, that she found herself grateful to have so little to worry about as far as interaction went.

They withstood almost two hours of it without the person who was throwing the thing so much as casting a look their way, apparently. There were hors d’oeuvres and drinks brought around on trays, but they weren’t enough to hold interest for very long. She could tell that even Ian grew a bit impatient.

“Bear with me a moment while I attend my one bit of real business here tonight?” he eventually asked, and instead of waiting any longer for their host to get around to them, he went over. 

He took them across the room to approach a stately woman with dark hair and a gunmetal gray dress that clung to every curve. She held court beneath a black-shaded chandelier, laughing and talking with a handful of her guests. It took an insistently cleared throat from Ian to gain her notice.

“Ian,” the woman said as she turned. She seemed congenial enough - or might have if she’d said more.

Belle snuck a look at the check as he took it from his inner jacket pocket. She wished that she had money to donate, but judging by the number of zeroes on the check Ian meant to give the woman, there would be no lack of donations this evening. 

“Belle French,” Ian introduced, one hand solid and reassuring at her back even as the other fiddled with the paper in it. “Mayor Regina Mills. This would be her fundraiser.”

“Enchanted,” Regina said, and Belle didn’t miss the way the woman’s eyes narrowed slightly. The look flicked from herself to Ian again. “I thought you’d given that up.”

The tone of Regina’s voice kept Belle from offering her hand to shake. 

Ian’s smile was brittle and false. There was an odd brightness to his voice that she had never heard from him. “Dating?”

“‘Dating,’” Regina repeated with no small amount of contempt. “What a polite euphemism.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you mean,” he said, and he held the check out to her.

She gave him and the check an annoyed look before snatching it from his fingers. “Your donation is appreciated,” she gritted out, folding the paper and creasing it with her nails before turning back to the guests she’d been personally entertaining. “Pardon me, I should see how everyone is doing.”

Regina left with a destination somewhere on the other side of the room, and when she’d gone, Belle felt the discomfort around Ian drop away. She gave him a curious look, but she found his face too thoughtful to question him just then. Instead, she leaned into his side a little more. 

“All right, Sir?” she whispered.

She felt a slight shrug in his shoulder. “The only reason I’m invited to these things is because she knows that she can get donations out of me.”

Belle grinned to herself. She knew he was a soft touch - outside of playtime, at least - but she held the observation back. “It’s a good cause.”

“It is,” he agreed, smiling down at her. “Madam Mayor does tend to choose the good ones. The only reason _I_ suffer these things.”

“I understand more and more why you don’t like them.” She wrapped her arm more tightly around his. “Did you hear what I said before we came in?”

His smile turned a bit cheeky. “About finding a way to enjoy the party.”

“Mm-hmm,” Belle hummed, hinting, “I’m sure one of us can think of something?”

Regina moved to the middle of the large living room, clinking her cocktail ring against a tumbler of something iced and clear to bring all eyes to her. “The charity has had something put together for events such as this, allowing us to see what we’re donating to and where our money will be going. If you’ll direct yourselves this way,” she said, gesturing to the flatscreen. 

She took a small remote from the table near her, and the images transitioned away to make room for a video presentation. Guests drifted that way to watch with varying amounts of concentration. Belle and Ian stayed where they were, ending up at the back of the crowd.

After a moment, he slipped away from her side and stepped behind her, bringing his hands up to curl them around her upper arms. A flutter set off in her stomach as he tightened his fingers, and she had to consciously keep her breathing even. 

“Take your panties off,” he whispered to her.

A little zip of excitement ran up the middle of her back. “What?”

Ian leaned to speak nearer her ear, telling her again, “Take your panties off and give them to me.”

She thought for a second. “Where is the-”

“No, no bathroom,” he said. “Right here.”

Belle looked at him over her shoulder to judge whether or not he was teasing her. She knew immediately that he wasn’t. He was utterly serious.

“There are people around,” she reasoned. They were distracted by the fundraiser presentation, but she was reasonably sure that rustling around under her dress right there would draw some stares.

Ian enjoyed watching her calculate. “Find a way.”

There were at least two spots near where they stood that she could do it completely unseen. He waited for her to evaluate her surroundings. 

Belle felt her nerves go on end. She wanted to do what he told her. The puzzle was _how._ As casually as she could, she looked around for a place.

“Yes, Sir,” she said when she found one.

Slowly, as though she stepped away for something innocent, she went behind a great, lacquered black pillar that sat between two full length windows. She could still see him, which meant that he could see her when she drew the front of her skirt up her thighs. Catching her fingers in the legs of her panties, she shimmied them down over the black thigh high stockings Ian had requested, placing a hand on the pillar to balance as she took them off over her shoes. She wadded them up as small as she could in her hand and made certain that her skirt was down properly before returning to him.

He took her panties when she offered them, giving them a look as she stood in front of him. They were pretty - what Ian had come to expect of her. A bit of rose print cotton with a wide ruffle of black lace around the legs and a delicate late inset at the front. He folded them quickly and tucked them into his jacket pocket. 

“Very good,” he praised, keeping his voice low. “Now. I’m going to the kitchen. You’ll wait twenty seconds and follow.”

Pinching the center of her lower lip between her teeth, Belle nodded before she answered with an equally quiet, “Yes, Sir.”

She stayed where she was, anxiously counting off seconds as she watched him leave the room. It took every ounce of self-control that she possessed to keep her feet still until she reached twenty. 

No one lingered between the group in the living room and the kitchen, but when she stepped through the door, she was met with a half dozen catering staff busily arranging hors d’oeuvres on silver serving trays. Startled, she froze, but to her great relief, none of them paid a bit of mind to her. There was a snap of fingers and she looked to her right to find Ian. 

He held a door open into a large pantry. Belle hurried to him, and he sent her inside ahead of him with a hand at her back. Ian closed the door silently behind him. There was no lock on the handle, she noticed. She was reminded of the restaurant bathroom where she’d first gone down on her knees for him.

“I expect this will be a rather quick fuck,” he said as he shrugged out of his suit jacket.

She had to wonder how he defined ‘quick.’ “Yes, Sir. Anything you want.”

Folding his jacket, he laid it on a shelf and stepped toward her, backing her against the door. A giggle tried to rise in her chest, and it took everything she had not to free it. 

Ian slipped a hand into his trouser pocket and brought something out - only clear glass that she could see at first, until he turned it around. It was a butt plug visibly bigger than the ones they’d used thus far, with a fat, round base that had wispy pink rose petals blown into it. She didn’t think she had ever seen one as pretty.

He touched her cheek with the end of the bulb, then ran it across her lower lip. It was warm from being so close to his body for so long.

“You’ve had this the whole time,” she understood, exceptionally pleased with that. “You had a plan when you invited me, Sir.”

An arch smirk formed at one side of his mouth. “Let’s just say I was prepared for the opportunity.”

With a hand wrapped around her arm once again, he turned her to face the door. He pressed close and she could feel the heat of him through the back of her dress. 

“I want your hands up on the door, and I want you to keep them there,” he ordered, then placed one of his feet between hers, bumping her shoes. “Legs apart.”

Belle opened her legs. He touched her left foot and she opened them farther, until she felt near unsteady. There was the soft sound of fabric as he gathered her skirt higher. His hand ran up her bare hip, squeezing hard at it for a moment before he finished working her skirt above her backside.

She’d had a quickie or two before, but this… this was something else. Ian took his time in everything. Sneaking into the mayor’s pantry was apparently no different. 

He stroked the plug against her ass cheek, across a good number of the barely healing welts he’d left on her with the ruler only a couple of days before. The contrast of warm, smooth glass over her stinging stripes made her pussy clench in need without him getting anywhere near it. He moved the plug forward, sliding it between her labia to nudge the end against her clitoris.

“Always ready, aren’t you?” he murmured over her shoulder. “What was it? Asking for your panties in front of everyone? Telling you to follow me?”

“When you picked me up, Sir. The way you looked at me,” she admitted, and she choked back a moan as he grazed down one side of her clit. “I started getting wet then, Sir.”

Ian laughed softly. “All it takes is a look. What an easy slut.”

He pulled the glass toy back toward him, making sure that it was nice and slick, turning it along her pussy to coat the entire bulb and bringing plenty of her wetness with it. With his forearm turned to keep her skirt up and his hand angled so that he could spread her arse cheeks, he pressed the rounded tip against her puckered little hole. Her body reacted under his touch. She leaned forward, then a half second later pressed into him.

“You saw the plug,” he said before progressing any farther. “Do you want to keep going? Or-”

There was pleading in her voice. “Please, keep going, Sir.”

“Relax yourself, then. Breathe,” he directed.

It took a moment for her to do as he said. When he felt her relax, he began to ease the toy into her a fraction of an inch at a time, all the while slowly turning and stroking the toy in and out of her. He heard her breath quicken. Her fingers pressed against the door, small knuckles arching delicately upwards as he began on the wider part of the plug. She gave a thin whine that shot straight to his cock.

There was no give or flexibility to the toy that Belle was accustomed to with silicone. It was solid and remarkably smooth, and it was a new and strange sensation for her. She felt herself stretch and stretch as he worked the plug into her ass. The knowledge of what he was doing to her - or more _where_ he was doing it to her at - held her on a thin and delicious edge. The motion of the toy made her hyperaware of her cunt grasping at nothing in some off rhythm in desperation for him. She could be patient, though. She would show him that she could be patient, and he would fuck her _soon._ Her toes curled in her shoes in anticipation.

Belle bit the inside of her cheek to quiet a groan when the width of the toy neared unbearable, and she gasped at sudden relief of the stretching when the plug popped in and her body pulled it close. He touched the base, turning it, and patted it so that she felt it move inside her. 

His breath ghosted across the nape of her neck. He brushed a kiss there, and she truly did think her knees might give out when she felt his teeth scrape over the same spot.

“How is that?” he asked, his voice rough.

Belle swallowed twice over her dry throat before she could answer him. “Good, Sir, so good.”

“It’s yours, afterward.” He gave the base a gentle tug, making her whine. “A flower on our date. Appropriate?”

She smiled, pleased with the suggestion. “Yes, Sir.”

His hand moved between her legs again, his fingers insinuating themselves into her inner lips, opening her slit, curling and rubbing at her. He was teasing her, she thought. He was getting ready to fuck her. He began spreading her own wetness high on the inside of both of her thighs, going back for more until she felt covered with it. Ian wiped his hand across her hip. She heard his zipper, then the clink of his belt buckle on the floor.

“Bring your legs together. All the way, pressed together, feet touching,” he instructed, grabbing hold of her hip as she did so. “Keep your hands on the door.”

Her clit ached for his attention. She was dying to have him inside her, for him to use her. The need was so intense that she felt lightheaded. Her heart thumped with relief when he brought his cock up against her, pushing the length of it between her thighs, where he’d made her so wet that she could feel them gliding against one another. The feeling, the feverish heat of his hard cock, drew a groan from her and she bit her lips together to muffle the sound. Her skin prickled with the expectation of him ramming into her.

He didn’t. His cock remained just outside of her. He began thrusting with even, insistent movements right there between her slick thighs. 

“You… Sir, you… missed?” she panted out, entirely bewildered. Maybe it was just her foggy brain that wasn’t understanding. 

His hands tightened their hold on her hips, his fingers biting into the soft curves. “No. I didn’t.”

He hadn’t _intended_ to use her pussy, she realized. Her head spun. He wasn’t going to allow her any relief of her own. Once she wrapped her mind around that, she surrendered to it, giving herself over to the stimulation he _did_ allow her. He was using her body in a way she hadn’t expected. It drove her close to the limp, floating feeling that felt so good, but that she couldn’t afford to fall into where they were. 

Ian went at her harder. He hit her sore backside solidly with every thrust, and she tried to concentrate on the grain of the door under her fingertips, the rustle of her satin skirt with their motion, to keep herself present.

It didn’t take him long to finish, only having his own orgasm to look after. One of his hands left her hip and he held the head of his cock near her cunt. She felt the heat of it as he came right up against her vulva, starting to drip down the front of her right thigh. He slid out as he stepped back, and her skirt dropped back down.

“Turn around,” he told her.

The order took a moment to process through her slowed thoughts. She let her hands fall to her sides and turned to face him. Everything was off-kilter and wobbly, and something in her was thrilled by it.

Ian ran his thumb across the head of his cock. Reaching up, he smeared the come gathered there over her mouth. The expression on her face - surprise, extreme arousal - if they had true privacy, he’d have reveled in witnessing her drop into subspace. As it was, though, she needed to be a _bit_ more aware of her surroundings.

He brought his trousers up and tucked himself away, retrieving a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his hands. “Belle,” he said almost sternly.

Her eyes came back into focus. “Sir?”

“That’s all you get. For now.” Ian placed a finger under her chin, lifting it. “We’ll talk about later, if you can behave yourself.”

A small but clearly content smile crossed her face. “Yes, Sir,” she responded, licking the sticky shine from her lips. Her teeth held onto the lower one for a few seconds, her eyes falling closed for a moment.

He looked her over, making certain that nothing appeared telling, and shook a fold out of the hem of her dress. “Do you think you can go back to the party?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said again with a nod.

Turning his watch to look, he told her, “One hour,” and showed her the time. Not quite half past eight. “You and I are going to be good guests for one hour, and then we’ll go. What happens to you afterward depends on your behavior between now and then.”

She blinked a couple of times, seeming to gather her wits a bit. “I understand, Sir.”

Ian pulled his jacket back on and eased her aside so that he could listen at the door. There was noise in the kitchen. He could hear glassware and serving trays, then servers being sent out with instructions. Their timing wouldn’t get much better.

Only a pair of women were still there when he stepped out of the pantry. Both glanced up from arranging finger foods on cookie sheets destined for the oven. One grinned at him, then at Belle as she came out behind him.

“Don’t worry about it,” the caterer said with a wink as they passed through. “What happens in the kitchen stays in the kitchen.”

Stopping at the powder room off the hallway, he gave Belle’s arm a reassuring touch. “I won’t be long, just going to wash up. Wait here.”

He cleaned himself, above and below, mindful of haste. When he returned to her, she was precisely where he’d left her. 

“Good girl,” he whispered to her as he offered his arm, enjoying the pink that rose in her cheeks at his words.

Belle held to his arm as though it kept her afloat. She suddenly and very intimately understood the definition of being driven to distraction.

When they walked back into the party, he asked the first server they saw for a bottle of water. The young man he asked seemed to return with it instantly. Opening the half-size bottle for her so that she didn’t have to let go of his arm, Ian handed it to her, and she took a couple of long sips.

She did her best to behave as normally as possible with a plug in her ass and his come all over her. It proved difficult. She could feel his come running down her legs. The toy was big enough that she couldn’t _not_ be aware of it the rest of the evening. The glass plug was heavy, and she felt almost too full. Its round base was much larger than the slender, oblong ones she had become accustomed to, and the presence of it between her cheeks gave her a nagging doubt whether she walked properly.

Her arousal reached a degree that was ridiculous. Her mind kept throwing fantasies at her about Ian stripping her down and fucking her on the floor in front of the entire party, and she didn’t think she’d have turned him down if he actually suggested as much.

It didn’t help that Ian was obviously amused at how affected she was. He gave her knowing looks and wicked grins even as he had to lead her around in her state of preoccupation. She remained close to him, leaning into him. Their few minutes in the pantry had left her feeling almost frighteningly vulnerable. She wasn’t sure she’d have felt safe if he weren’t touching her.

Halfway into the agreed upon hour, he moved his arm away from hers to settle his hand at her back. When no one was looking - around the time the mayor began encouraging her guests with flattery to increase their donations - she received a solid pat on the bottom that sent a flash of pain through the marks there, at the same time bumping against the plug’s base.

Belle had to clench her teeth and close her throat to keep from moaning aloud. It sent her head swimming. 

Returning his hand to the small of her back, Ian guided her over to an arrangement of two facing sofas and a number of armchairs where a group of guests seemed to be talking about the crab puffs and tax deductions. With an open hand, he gestured to a black leather armchair with an offset back. Thinking nothing of the invitation, she sat.

She gasped sharply enough to draw looks from the people nearest her. Smiling what she hoped was a nonchalant smile, Belle struggled to keep the rest of her expression neutral. Sitting pressed the plug base against her hole, changing the angle of the toy inside her, and it was all she could do to pretend to follow the conversation. 

Ian’s hands rested on her bare shoulders, warm and steady and making it worse. She didn’t realize how she shifted to feel the toy more until he leaned down to speak low in her ear.

“Sit. Still,” he instructed her firmly.

The need to move was constant - an itch she could scratch, but only if she disobeyed. She did as she was told and hoped that he decided she was being good.

“Look at you. Everyone can tell what you are,” Ian whispered to her. “What a filthy slut you are. Do you see the way they look at you?”

Belle’s face burned. She could feel the blush prickling down her neck and chest as she whispered back to him, “Yes, Sir.”

She was only vaguely aware of a change in topic when the people around them began talking about their work. From what she gathered, there was a defense attorney, a stock analyst, and a hedge fund manager in the mix. She was unsure about the rest, but everyone talked a big game.

The next thing she knew, Ian was telling them, “Ms. French here is in book conservation and restoration.”

There was a round of politely interested sounds before a woman at the far end of one sofa asked, “What’s the most interesting book you’ve restored?”

“Oh,” Belle said, caught off guard both by Ian and the woman’s question. She had to muddle through the haze in her head and _think._ “Um. A- um. There was an elderly lady that the museum I work with put in contact with me. She’d come into possession of a copy of _Malleus Maleficarum_ in the original German, and she wanted it restored with aged repairs.”

She was a bit proud of herself for getting through even such a short explanation without stammering herself into a different sort of embarrassment. One of Ian’s hands tightened on her shoulder, and she thought she could feel pride in his touch, too. The woman who had asked nodded before joining the others as they moved on to another topic.

Ian bent to speak softly to her again. “You still have my come on your breath,” he told her. “Do you think anyone who’s spoken to you could smell it?”

She only just managed not to whimper at the reminder. His thumbs stroked over her skin near the curves of her neck, and his touch worsened her need further.

The come on her thighs had gone cool and sticky. Belle wanted… She wanted more of him. Of anything and everything he would do to her. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. She really did think she’d have gone down and humped Ian’s leg if she could’ve gotten away with it.

The longer they stayed, the more difficult it was for Belle to hold onto a cohesive thought. By the time he held his wristwatch where she could see that the hour was up, she had to work to focus on it. 

“I believe it’s time for us to go,” Ian said, offering his hand to her. 

Oh, she was glad that he helped her up. She wasn’t sure how she would have stood without treating everyone within hearing range to one obscene sound or another otherwise. And he knew it, too, if the smug grin on his face was anything to go by.

They left the party with no excuses and very few farewells, and despite her general nature as a polite guest, she couldn’t be too bothered by it in this case. The sooner they were out of the house and alone, the better. She couldn’t keep her need to herself for much longer.

Neither, it seemed, could Ian. They made it down the front walk and to his car with his hand at her back. She was more than happy to have him lead her, to take care of her in every way that implied. He walked her to the passenger side before wrapping a hand around her arm, turning her to face him, backing her against the car door. His eyes were intense and appraising, _hungry_ as he looked down at her, and her heart thumped faster. 

Ian took his hand from her arm, letting it rest over the soft slope joining her neck and shoulder for a moment. He could virtually see the impatience in her growing. Before it became too much, he slid his hand to curl around the back of her neck, bringing the other up to cradle her jaw insistently in the space of his thumb and forefinger, tilting her head the way he wanted it. She gave him the smallest moan and his cock was straining against the front of his trousers again.

He leaned in and kissed her hard. Pinning her between his body and the car door, he sucked at her lower lip, nipping at it and pressing his fingertips into her cheek until she opened her mouth for him. He licked his way in, invading and taking, and she gave. Ian felt her hands grasp hold of the sides of his jacket, tugging as though she could get him any closer to her. He swallowed the helpless sounds she made.

Belle was breathless and dazed when he broke the kiss, and he held her just there, his face half an inch from hers while he enjoyed the need that trembled off her. She was beautiful, flushed and desperate, begging with everything except the words that were currently beyond her. She gave a soft gasp against his mouth when he brushed his lips over hers in one more brief, teasing kiss, and he was satisfied that she was ready.

“We talked in the shop about how eager you are to have a cock in your mouth. Do you remember?” he asked, and the way her glassy blue eyes went wide proved she did. “Now you can show me.”

With a whimper and a smile that bordered on drunken, she tried to push up against him. He waited, holding her where she was for a moment longer, moving his thumb to press the pad of it into the center of her bottom lip and smudge the color there beyond the line of it. When he took his hands off her and moved a step back, she came with him as if she were attached. He moved her, changing places with her so that he stood against the car and she had room in front of him. 

Belle didn’t have to wait the ride home for him, and she was so beyond relief that she might have fallen to her knees even were it not where she was meant to be, anyway. They were hidden, for the most part, by the way he’d parked close to the hedge. There was still the frisson of apprehension between her shoulderblades that someone could walk out and see her with his cock in her mouth. 

She knelt down at his feet. When she reached for his zipper, he took her hands to guide them away.

“Only your mouth. Keep your hands to yourself,” he told her.

The pavement under her bit into her knees as she waited, lips parted. Ian unbuckled his belt in front of her eyes, taking his zipper down so that he could reach in and bring his cock out for her. He patted the head against her cheek, twice, then three times, before smearing a streak of precome on her face. She opened wider in response.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he very nearly growled at her, his eyes black in the streetlamps. “Show me what that mouth was made for.” 

He held his cock within her reach, and she rocked forward, _finally_ allowed. Belle closed her lips around the head. The taste, the scent of him - such fierce happiness overwhelmed her that she could have cried. She held fistfuls of her skirt against her abdomen to keep her hands occupied. 

Not a night had gone by that she hadn’t practiced with the first dildo he’d given her. She had been learning for him, and she intended to show him how well she learned. Bobbing her head slowly at first, she took more of his cock, closing her eyes as the head moved over the back of her tongue. She used what she’d so painstakingly taught herself to relax her throat. One of Ian’s hands rested on her hair, his fingers threading into it to curl and hold on, and she was dying for him to take control, to use her mouth the way he wanted. She had to show him that she could take it, though.

The head of his cock bumped against the back of her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut tighter as she pushed herself to take it. The sensation was far different from taking the dildo. She adjusted, trying to concentrate less on the stretch and discomfort, and more on having him swallowed down deep, where she’d wanted him since the first time she had him in her mouth. Ian’s groan above her was more than worth it.

Despite how badly she wanted to, she couldn’t keep him there for long. Belle pulled back with a gasp. A thin string of saliva connected her to his cock for a second, breaking when she moved too far and falling to the front of her dress. She sucked at the head again while she caught her breath. When she could hold it again, she went back for more, this time going down more smoothly. Ian made a noise that sounded a bit strangled as she worked her tongue against the underside, encouraging her more than he could be aware.

She couldn’t quite get her nose down to his abdomen - she’d have to work on that. For now, though, she went as far and as long as she could for him. Trusting him to keep them hidden there next to his car, she leaned away and took him deep once more before beginning to move more quickly toward getting him off. 

Whether it was where they were or the way the evening had affected him, too, it didn’t take as long as usual. Ian stopped her as she leaned back, tightening his hand in her hair before she could go down again.

“What is it you want?” He touched her cheek with the back of his other hand. “I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please?” she said as soon as she could get her mouth to do more than hold itself open to suck his cock. Her voice was thin and shaky. “Please? Come in my mouth, Sir?”

He loosened his hand to give her enough slack to continue. She barely had time to into a rhythm again before he came, pulsing into her.

“Don’t swallow. Not yet,” he ordered.

She pulled slowly off him, sucking, taking every drop she could with her before he slid from her lips. Belle held his come in her mouth, salty-sweet on her tongue, waiting for his next command.

Ian only looked down at her for a moment, hands still in her hair. He tilted her head back. “Show it to me.”

She opened her mouth for him. He looked for much longer, a satisfied tilt to his lips.

“You enjoy that?” he asked, petting her hair as he spoke. “Being full of come? Wherever I decide to put it?”

Belle nodded as much as she dared. _God, yes, Sir,_ she thought. _Anywhere._

His smile grew broader. “All right. Swallow.”

A drip escaped the corner of her mouth as she closed it to do as she was told. Reaching down, he caught it with a fingertip, holding it up until she opened again and took his finger inside to suck it off.

“What are you?” Ian prompted, stroking the back of his fingers over her cheek. 

Without thinking, she answered, “Yours, Sir.”

He gave her answer a soft chuckle. “You’re a come whore. Aren’t you.”

A pleasant shiver ran through her. “I’m a come whore, Sir,” she repeated back to him, pressing her thighs together over the absolute evidence of the statement. 

“Louder,” he told her.

Belle ran the tip of her tongue between her lips, tasting him on them, and said in a voice loud enough that anyone out on the lawn could have heard, “I’m a come whore, Sir.”

Moving to take his cock in hand, he wiped the head on her cheek opposite the precome. “Fix my clothes.”

She tucked him carefully back into his boxers, zipped his trousers, and buckled his belt. As she waited for his next command, the front door clicked open. Ian leaned to catch his hand under her arm.

“Up,” he said, bringing her to her feet. He supported her as he opened the car door and got her into the passenger seat, and she gasped when she sat down on the plug again. “Are you all right?”

Concentrating on not making a mess of his car, she answered automatically. “Yes, Sir.”

He leaned over her with a hand on the edge of the roof and one on top of the door. “Belle? All right?”

Her attention turned to him, and she met his gaze. “I’m okay, Sir,” she said, and that seemed to satisfy him, because he closed the door and went around to his own.

Unwilling to make even the short drive without it, he helped her with her seatbelt. Her fingers were too fumbly to get it clicked into place. There was kind patience in him as he buckled her in. He lay a hand on her knee, keeping his eyes on her for a moment before starting the engine.

The drive back to her apartment was blessedly short. Her new neighbor’s old motorcycle wasn’t in its parking space, a fact for which she was thankful just now. It was just beginning to mist rain when Ian hurried her up the steps and inside with an arm securely around her waist. She succeeded in unlocking her door without dropping her keys.

Ian waited until she’d turned the locks to lift an index finger under her chin. “Do you have a clothespin?”

“Yes, Sir,” she answered, and it was as though she anchored there on his fingertip. Only when he moved his hand away did she turn to walk to the kitchen.

He stayed beside the vase that sat next to her television - the roses he’d brought to her. They were beginning to wilt at the edges. It was an oversight that he hadn’t brought her more, and he resolved to have flowers for her the next time they met.

Belle returned to offer him a blue plastic clothespin. Taking it, he tested it on the web of his thumb, finding it with a strong pinch. Not as strong as the clamps he had at home, but it would be a fine introduction for her for what he intended. He dropped the pin into his trouser pocket. It would serve perfectly well.

“Into the bedroom,” he told her. “Dress and shoes off. Wait for me beside the bed.”

She headed for her room as soon as he gave her instructions, glancing back at him over her shoulder before she disappeared through the doorway. Ian took his time following. He shrugged out of his jacket on the way, loosening his tie and popping open the shirt button beneath it. 

When he walked in, she was the picture of loveliness with a peek of pink glass between her arse cheeks, in her black stockings and nothing else, waiting obediently. The criss-crossed stripes and bruises blazed bright across the fair skin of her backside. Ian took a moment to admire them. He’d never in his life wanted anyone more. How that had happened, after so long and so much heartache, he couldn’t imagine.

He circled her, taking in the way she stood, her unraveling braid, her hands twisting together and anxious to be bound or given something to do. The knees of her stockings were marred with pulls and runs and holes. There was a stain high on the inside of one where his come had dripped down her thigh. Slipping a finger into the band of elastic there, he snapped it against her skin and received a delicate jump from her in payment. 

“Please, Sir…” she whispered, sounding near the end of her rope. 

That was just fine. He’d enjoy playing with her while she dangled.

“You’ve ruined your stockings,” he accused as he walked around behind her. “Put your hands down. Explain yourself.”

Belle dropped her arms to her sides with a sound of frustration. “I couldn’t help it, Sir.”

“That sounds like an excuse.” Reaching down, he pinched one of the redder marks near the crease below her ass cheek, bringing a sharp yelp from her. “You can do better.”

He could see her resisting to squirm in response to his pinch, so he gave her another next to it, pushing her. She yelped again, the sound turning into a whine this time, and tremor went through her. 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she tried again.

Ian unbuttoned his waistcoat, taking it off to drop over the chair to join her dress and his jacket. “There we are. Better.”

He stepped close behind her, pressing himself to her back and wrapping an arm around her to keep her there. With his free hand, he cupped her breast, dragging his thumb across her nipple to bring it erect. She did her best to push forward. Taking his hand away, he brought it back in a sharp slap to the lower curve of her breast. He felt the vibration of her groan move through her into his chest.

“Stay still,” he said low from over her shoulder. “Unless you’re ready to stop?”

She shook her head, her hair brushing against his cheek. “No, Sir. Don’t stop.”

After a moment, after petting the spot he’d slapped, he gave her another in the same place. She took a deep, shaky breath. Two more and she was whimpering, leaning back into him, her hands clinging to his shirtsleeve. 

He gave her a strong, glancing slap that fell right across her nipple and she shouted, squirming in earnest now. Her fingers grasped at his arm. When he stopped to pet her again, she pulled at his sleeve.

“Please,” she huffed out on a breath. “Please?”

Making certain that her pleading wasn’t for him to stop, he asked, “More?” 

“Yes, Sir, yes-” She cut herself off with a whine.

Another slap, then three in a row, and Belle positively writhed. He cupped his hand around the entirety of her small breast and squeezed, savoring the heat that spanking had brought to her skin, drawing a soft whine from her. She leaned heavily into him and he gave her one more good slap before moving on to the other side. 

He stroked her nipple between splayed fingers this time, plucking at it to tease it taut. The sounds she made - breathy sighs, hums of frustration, something that verged on a purr - had him hard against her arse. Ian waited until he could feel some of the tension relax from her shoulders before pulling his hand away to give a sharp spank to her breast’s outer curve. She jerked in his arms, swaying them both. He didn’t give her a chance to recover from the first before adding a half dozen more just below the pale pink border of her areola. Her small sounds grew steadily louder until he stopped, and he felt her trying to arch into his touch when he began grazing his fingernails along the pain-sensitized skin. 

Brushing his lips along the shell of her ear, he asked, “Enjoying yourself, are you?”

“Yes! God, yes, Sir,” she gasped almost before he got the question out.

Her assurance was enough to spur him on. He gave her breast a firm squeeze and another slap just after it, followed by another and another, intent on getting one more shout from her. Concentrating on the lower curve, he inflicted a searing spanking of measured slaps that quickly had her shaking again. He felt her nails through the fabric of his shirt as she held more tightly to his arm. 

_Close._ She was so close, there. All she needed was a bit more of a nudge.

He lost his own count, listening to the stuttered whimpers that came out with her panted breaths, the sound of his hand meeting her breast. She tried to twist in his grasp and he tightened his arm around her, responding with a few harsher spanks that sent her over the edge. Belle cried out, sagging against him in the absence of further punishment. 

Ian took her weight and held her close. Allowing her to calm before they went anywhere else, he ran the back of his fingers over one of her breasts and then the other, soothing the flushed places where she’d been well spanked. 

There was joy in the act of taking her apart, of breaking her in the ways she needed so badly from him. Perhaps as much, he thought, as she took from her side of their play. His pleasure rested in her own. In providing that for her. In the responsibility of it.

When she’d caught her breath and managed to support herself, wobbly though she was, he turned her bodily around to face him. There were tears in her eyes, and judging by the lack of focus there, she was a hair’s breadth from subspace. It would be easy to send her careening in. He needed her aware for a few more moments, though.

“Do you still want to be fucked?” he asked, cradling her jaw against his palm to tilt her face up.

At first, her only answer was a needy little moan. She pinched her bottom lip with her teeth and he pulled it back out with his thumb on her chin.

“Answer me, Belle,” he ordered.

“Yes… yes, yes… yes, Sir, please.” She tripped through her words, her hands coming up to grab weakly at the front of his shirt.

He guided her hands away and turned her toward her sunny yellow and blue quilt. “On the bed,” he told her. “Hands and knees.”

Instantly, she did as he said. She crawled onto her bed, her pretty, striped arse facing him. He couldn’t help noticing how she locked her elbows to keep in the position.

“Head down, shoulders on the bed.” Ian ran a hand over her hip. It was a long evening she’d had. Putting a knee on the mattress between her feet, he reached forward to take her arms, guiding them behind her. “And I want your hands at your back.”

From his trouser pocket, he took the clothespin he’d had her fetch, making certain he had a good grip on it. He patted one of her feet.

“Farther apart,” he said, and her bottom wiggled as she obeyed, spreading her legs wider.

Leaning so that he could see what he was doing, he brought the clothespin up, nestling the open mouth of it around her clitoris and hood. He let it close gradually on her, being sure to clamp it so that it would go nowhere until he was ready for it to. Belle responded with a shuddering gasp when it was in place. The sound turned sharper when he gave the pin a tap.

“Still all right?” He ran a hand down her back, moving to stand up, but didn’t break contact until she answered.

The limit of her communication skills had fallen to an eager, drawn out hum of, “ _Mmm…_ ”

To either side of him, she curled and uncurled her toes, and he took that as further sign of her enthusiasm. Stepping just away from the bed, Ian made fast work of his clothes while admiring the way she was opened up before him. Her cunt was flushed and glistening with arousal, and the base of the plug he’d put in her arse was in full view. Once he’d stripped to the skin, he knelt up between her legs on the bed, hands braced around her hips. With his thumbs, he stroked across where the curve of them began, and she rocked backward in his hold. 

“How many times do I have to tell you to stay still?” he scolded, bringing his hand back to give her a spank across some of the angrier marks on her backside.

She squeaked, her fingers flexing in toward her palms. Making enough room to see the plug’s base, he took it between his first two fingers, turning it slowly. He began to fuck her shallowly with it, not enough to risk it coming out, but just enough that he could see the way she stretched around the neck of it when he tugged slightly back. Her breathing went uneven, and he pressed the base up against her body again. Ian wrapped one hand around her crossed wrists just above the small of her back, positioning his hand wide to restrain her securely. Aiming his cock with the other, he dragged the head through her wetness before sliding into the snug warmth of her cunt in one long thrust.

Everything that Belle was floated on wave after wave of sensation and emotion. The clothespin, the plug in her ass, his hands on her, his cock inside her - finally, _finally,_ after being kept in dizzying arousal all evening, and nothing had ever felt more incredible than this. 

The inside of her head felt _wide_ open but all fogged over. She couldn’t keep a thought present for more than an instant, and each was composed of a feeling flayed bare. The ecstasy of Ian fucking her. The sound and ache of his hips hitting her marked bottom. The hot little jolts of pleasure-pain that came from the pin on her clit swinging with each thrust into her. It all verged on too much, holding there on a knife edge. 

She made sounds - she could hear them - but they were out of her control. Every moan, grunt, whimper he drew from her came right out of her mouth, no ability to hold them back. His control, his dominance gave her the gift of letting go. Belle was grateful that all she had to do was be there and revel in it now. She felt free and safe, and so, so happy. 

His hand not binding her wrists together reached forward to wrap up in her braid, arching her head back a bit toward her right shoulder. Ian fucked her hard. His rhythm was slow, hitching rough, intense pounds into her, making the headboard thump against her bedroom wall.

Belle heard herself keening on every exhale as everything he did to her built together. He pushed deep, yanking her back onto him at the same time. Holding there, his hips tight against her ass, he let go of her hair to slide his hand down her shoulder. Down her back, over her side. His fingers moved in a hot path across her stomach and abdomen, cupping her mound.

“You want to come, don’t you?” he asked, his lilt heavy and dark to her ears. There was a bright flick of pain when he pressed one finger into the top of her slit to touch the clothespin, and his voice was almost hoarse as he gave her permission. “Come for me.”

He took the clothespin away. The instant it was off her clitoris, _oh, God,_ exquisite pain and pleasure throbbed through her cunt, the long build up to her orgasm blazing all at once. Belle came with a ragged sob. She didn’t have a chance to find relief in being allowed - before the first had half faded, a second orgasm hit her. Screaming into her quilt, she shuddered under Ian, her body rocking backward in some instinctive attempt to get _more_ of him. 

With long motions, he petted indirectly over her clit, spinning the aftershocks out longer for her until there was nothing more left than the content glow of it. He wrapped his hands around her upper arms, just above her elbows, and pulled his hips back to resume the lovely, rough fuck he’d been treating her to. She felt limp in his grasp, only held up because he kept her in position. As far as she was concerned, he could keep her there for as long as he wanted. The feeling of being bent over and spread open for him to take what he needed from her was almost as wonderful as the orgasms themselves. She floated on the tightness of his hands, the sounds he made, the way he filled her over and over until he brought his body up against hers one last time. His cock twitched inside her as he came, and she was too worn out to do more than moan her happiness at being full of his come one more time tonight.

Ian released her wrists, guiding her arms down to rest at her sides, and shifted so that he slipped out of her. He kept a hand on her until he could get himself sat down on the bed. Easing her toward him, onto her side, he brushed escaped and frazzled curls away so that he could see her face when he leaned over her. 

She blinked slowly, her eyes glazed over. Belle was beyond blissed out, lost in her head, and he simply propped on his hand to watch her enjoy it for a few moments.

“Belle,” he said, keeping his voice soft. “Time to start heading back this way.”

With a slightly deeper breath, her gaze sharpened a little, moving from the middle distance to attempt focusing on his face. He touched her cheek, running the pad of his thumb across the apple of it, and bowed his head to drop a kiss at the corner of her mouth. He felt her sigh.

He tempted, “Come on, darling. You have pajamas to put on, covers to be tucked under…”

She moved her hand where it lay on the quilt next to him. Her fingertips brushed against the top of his thigh in small motions, and Ian hoped he was correct in interpreting it as seeking more contact. He let his arm down so that he could lie on his side with her, putting an arm around her to pet gently between her shoulderblades and down her back. Belle tilted herself to lean more closely into him.

“I want a word or two,” he told her, his fingers making their way slowly along her spine. “Can you say something for me?”

Her eyes closed for a few seconds. He found them clearer when she blinked them open again, and he smiled as she started coming back to him.

“Hey,” she breathed, sounding well past exhausted.

“Hey,” Ian responded. “There you are.”

Belle wrinkled her nose and turned her head to rub her face against the soft patchwork of her quilt. “Mm-hm.”

She heard him chuckle. “A little more than that.”

“I’m here,” she managed after another moment. 

His hand changed direction, soothing right along the back of her shoulders. It took a while for her heart to stop pounding and to catch her breath, and she brought her arms up to tuck them against his chest and her own. She wasn’t cold, really - her apartment stayed plenty warm - but she craved being close to him in a way that she couldn’t ignore as raw as her mind and nerves were.

“You did so well, sweet girl,” Ian praised, his touch going up the nape of her neck and down again.

Her breath caught in her throat at his words, and it broke free with some combination of a hiccup and an un-self-conscious giggle, almost sending her head reeling all over again. He shifted until he could get both arms around her, holding her so snug to him that she couldn’t have gotten away without asking. That feeling of being safe that only happened with him washed through her.

Every endearment he gave her felt _meant._ She’d heard more than enough false ones in her life to tell the difference.

“Thank you, Sir,” she murmured to him.. “For everything tonight.”

He searched her face as though he fully expected something to be there that wasn’t. “You needn’t thank me. It’s my privilege.”

She tucked her face against his neck and nuzzled in. She could still smell his cologne, even after their rather eventful night. Maybe it would cling to her bedclothes.

“Were you serious, about the way I looked at you?” Ian asked after long minutes of thinking it over. It occurred to him to wonder whether she had to work herself up to such questions. “That did something for you?”

“God, yes,” she seemed to admit freely. There was movement in her facial expression against his skin, and he realized she was smiling. “You looked at me like you were going to strip me right in the hallway.” 

“Mm,” he hummed. “It was a close thing.”

She laughed, light and airy, one of her arms reaching back enough that she could get her hand in his hair. His eyes fell shut. He let himself indulge in the way her fingertips felt brushing over his skin, the very particular feeling as she twisted the ends of his hair and stroked them through the spaces between her fingers. If she would only go on doing that, he thought he’d rearrange the stars for her. 

The way she played with his hair slowed after a while, then acquired long pauses. He began to suspect that she was drifting off. That wouldn’t do, not in her state.

“We really should get you into the shower. We were a bit messier than usual, hm?” he prodded, trying to wake her.

She was sticky and sweaty, Belle was very aware, and she knew he must be in close to the same condition. But she didn’t want to move that much. She was still shaky enough that she wasn’t sure she could stand up in the shower.

“Can I say no?” she asked quietly. 

Ian found himself startled that she would doubt. “Of course. You can say no to anything.”

She slid her arms more closely about his neck. He felt her press a little kiss there that made his heart double a beat, and she leaned back enough to look up at him.

“I’ll shower later, before you go,” she promised. “But not _right_ now?” 

He gave her an agreeing nod. “Do you want me to clean you up as usual?”

“Yes, Sir. Please?” Belle said almost bashfully.

Ian waited a little longer before he reluctantly began unwinding her limbs from him. Leaving her curled up on the bed, he took his boxers from the floor to take with him to the bathroom. Her dress, laid over a chair near her dresser with his jacket and waistcoat on top of it, caught his eye. There were sure to be fluids on its lining. The satin was certainly wrinkled. 

“I’ll take your dress to be cleaned when I go,” he offered, leaning down to grab his undershirt, as well.

Belle started to turn him down. She had her mouth open to tell him she’d do it, but what ended up coming out was, “If you don’t mind? That’d be nice.”

He disappeared into her bathroom, leaving the door open. She couldn’t see him from where she lay, and she didn’t have the energy to move yet. His shadow told her that he washed himself, though. She saw a flash of black cotton being shaken out as Ian pulled his undershirt back on, then heard the sink taps go on again. He came back only a minute or so after.

She didn’t have to move for him to take the butt plug out of her. It was always a strange sensation coming out, made even stranger after arousal had dissipated, but he never failed to be gentle on the other side of playtime. He let her stay on her side while he rolled her stockings down her legs, and while he used a makeup wipe to clean her face. He’d paid good attention the once she had shown him how she went about it. 

When he got to the washcloths, though, it was time to move. Minimally, bless him, but she had to keep a leg steepled while he washed her pussy and thighs. It had ceased to be awkward a few wash-ups ago. Now it was just nice to be taken care of the way he did.

She didn’t realize he had brought her comb out with him until he nudged her into sitting up. _That_ was heaven, she decided, Ian standing next to the bed to unbraid her hair and comb the tangles from it. He worked so carefully that she hardly felt a pull. Everything he did for her, all of it, she felt as if he were putting her back together after so thoroughly and satisfyingly breaking her. 

“Is there a particular pair of pajamas you have in mind?” he asked just as she reached the point of falling asleep at his hands. 

“Purple,” she said, pretending she hadn’t been so close to falling over. “There’s a, um- a purple pair. With duckies on them.”

When it occurred to her that she’d have to get up completely to be helped into them, she wished she had just pointed him toward a nightgown. With a hand wrapped around her arm, he helped her easily to her feet, swaying aside. He sat on her bed’s edge so that she could balance with her hands on his shoulders to get into the bottoms.

“You need pajamas here,” she ventured, looking at him through her lashes as he buttoned her top.

He smiled. “Do I?”

“Yes, you do.”

“I suppose I should have brought some.”

“Why don’t-” She pressed her lips together.

Ian glanced up before going back to her buttons. “Hmm?”

She thought a little more about what she was going to say, then decided to go through with it. Why not? “Why don’t you keep some here? All the time?”

Belle liked the thought of a pair of his pajamas folded up and laying in the dresser drawer with her own. It wasn’t too much, she hoped. She wasn’t confronting him with an entire drawer. 

“You’d want that?” he asked, settling his hands at her hips and meeting her gaze.

She rubbed her fingers across the soft fabric of his shirt over his shoulders. “I would.”

His nod was thoughtful. “I’ll bring a pair along next time I’m over.”

Her insides performed some sort of giddy flip. He brought her down onto the bed next to him and they got her under the covers with some sleepy squirming on her part. Nothing had ever been so comfortable.

“Are you going?” she asked when he stood to pull the quilt up for her, doing her best to keep the worry out of her tone.

“Only to fetch you a bottle of water,” he assured her.

“If…” She hesitated, but he gave her an expectant look. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d rather have some hot tea. But not yet.”

“Not yet?” Ian stopped his progress toward the bedroom door. 

She moved her feet against the cool sheets. “Would you mind just staying with me for a while?”

He went back to her without further question. Climbing under the covers, he settled himself in with her, holding her close again when she turned over to curl into him. No, no, nothing had ever been _this_ comfortable. This was even better.

As she was considering giving up on staying awake, he dropped a kiss on top of her head and told her, “Just let me know when you’re ready for that tea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual aid:  
> [party outfit](https://ishtarelisheba.dreamwidth.org/file/6471.jpg) (nsfw)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Prompt - _Anonymous said: Ties that bind prompt - Belle has gotten much better with throat training so Gold has a fun time taking control of a blowjob_ ]
> 
> Warnings: collar, mild anal play (butt plug), temperature play (heat), deep throat, intense spanking, consensual crying, bondage, hair pulling, consensual name calling.

When Belle rounded the end of the trellis in front of the diner for their lunch date on Saturday, the first thing she saw was Ian standing out front with a bouquet of gorgeous, bright reddish-purple lilacs. Her heart skipped to find him there waiting for her with flowers. The smile that lit his face when he saw her was even better.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted as she made her way up the short walk, offering the lilacs when she was near enough to take them. 

They smelled sweet and heady, and she looked forward to putting them in her apartment so they could fill the space with their scent. She leaned her head back to ask for a kiss. He granted her one, brief but sweet as the flowers she held. With a hand resting lightly between her shoulderblades, he opened the door and escorted her inside, taking her through to the relative privacy of a booth near the back. 

She placed her flowers on the table next to her, the cone of gold floral paper that wrapped them crinkling as she set the bouquet down. The waitress was prompt about coming by for their orders. Belle looked to Ian when the young woman asked what they’d like. He didn’t miss a beat, ordering for her as well as himself - hamburgers and iced tea for them both. 

Resting her hand palm up on the table, she wiggled her fingers to ask for his, smiling when he gave it to her. “Thank you, Sir,” she said softly.

Ian closed his hand around hers and drew it nearer his side of the table. “I have a small surprise for you when we get to my place.”

Her interest piqued. “A surprise?” 

“When we get to my place,” he repeated. “You might take the opportunity to exercise your patience.”

She gave him a brassy little look. “I might not, too.”

“And you might get a spanking for that sass,” Ian told her, lowering his voice.

Belle’s smile grew and she shook her head. “That’s not a deterrent.”

“I’ve a feeling few things would be.”

“Doesn’t that just make you want to find something, though?”

The waitress returned with their order before he could respond, but he gave Belle a grin that said he was up for the challenge. He listened attentively through lunch as she described a book she’d just received from the museum for restoration - a badly damaged, donated copy of Vernon Lee’s _Hauntings._ She was excited by the prospect of the extensive repairs it would require. Her lunch disappeared more slowly than his, owing to her cheerful gabble about tools, supplies, and methods. It was far better than sitting through a silent meal, and he was more than happy to give her his attention.

Ian took in the demure outfit she’d chosen for their date. The contrast with the way she conducted herself while they were together was just enchanting. He waited until she had nearly finished, only lingering over the last few fries on her plate, to ask a far too nonchalant, “Would you happen to be wearing anything _extra_ today?”

“No, Sir. Should I have?” Her eyebrows rose as she looked up at him.

“Not necessarily. Only curious,” Ian said, lacing his hands together on the table. “Would you enjoy more of that?”

She glanced around to check whether anyone was too nearby. “What, dropping by with treats for you?”

“Anal play,” he clarified just above a whisper. “Something significantly more than we’ve done thus far.”

“I would!” Belle chirped, smiling. 

“If it isn’t something you’d want more of, that’s just fine,” he reassured.

She pointed to herself with her last French fry before popping it into her mouth. “You’re talking to the girl who turned up at your shop with a very voluntary butt plug in.”

“Fair point.” Unlacing his fingers, he offered a hand to her as she’d asked for his when they sat. When she took it, he went on. “All right, there are preparations that need to happen if we’re to go about it properly.”

“Preparations?” Belle asked, not certain what he meant. She rested her free hand beside the one he held, fiddling with the knit pattern of her cardigan sleeve.

“Plugs are fine spur of the moment, but if one is planning a great deal more _activity_ in the area, there are other considerations,” he began. “You’ll need to go to the pharmacy. Or I can go for you if you prefer. I don’t mind.”

 _“Oh._ Okay. Yeah,” she said, catching on. She laughed self-consciously. “So that’s probably why nobody was ever too into that with me, huh?”

His hand tightened around hers. “No. Belle, someone else’s behavior and predilections are never your fault.”

She did her best to take in his words before nodding. Sometimes she wasn’t so sure. “Yes, Sir.”

Still looking her in the eyes, he leaned forward with a smirk promising at the corners of his mouth. “Have you ever had a cock in your arse, whore?”

With no more than that, her panties were a loss for the day. Belle felt drawn in to meet him. “Are you going to fuck my ass, Sir?” she whispered in return.

“Not today. Sometime very soon, but not today,” Ian told her, reaching across to brush her loose hair behind her shoulder. “I have other plans for our afternoon.”

~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~

The surprise Ian tempted her with had been delivered to his shop the previous evening. He hadn’t been able to wait until he got home to have a look at it, opening it up in the back of the shop so he could get his hands on it. He was pleased to find that it was nicer even than he had expected. Belle would be pleased, as well, he hoped.

“Do you have what I told you to bring?” he asked as they stepped through his front door.

Belle stopped near the foot of the stairs to reach into the roomy purse he suspected she had chosen solely to accommodate his request. She brought out the double ended dildo he’d given her to practice on, carefully wrapped in one of his handkerchiefs until she shook the bit of white linen away from one end.

Wobbling the toy at him, she gave him a cheeky smile. “Don’t I usually do what you tell me to do, Sir?”

“Most of the time.” He caught her wrist, holding her hand still. “There’s a bottle of toy cleaner in the cupboard next to the sink. Why don’t you go and give that a fresh wash?”

Belle stuck the handkerchief back into her purse, leaving it on the entryway table and stepping into the downstairs bathroom. When she came out, he waited on the first landing of the stairs, beckoning her. He gestured her past him. She went up with Ian at her back, ushering her through the hallway to a door a bit more than halfway down before stopping her with a hand on her arm.

She darted a look up at him when she realized. “Is this your playroom? It’s finished?”

 _“Our,”_ he corrected. “And for the most part. We’ll have everything we need for the day.”

The thought of what might be behind that door made her antsy in the best way. She hadn’t expected something quite so grand when he mentioned a surprise.

“You’re excited, too,” she observed, tugging at his jacket. He had the same look about him as he did when he picked her up for their first date.

Ian flicked a look at the toy she held, but he smiled. “I want to see how you’ve progressed before you’re allowed in.”

With neither sass nor delay, she brought the dildo’s larger end to her lips, sliding it into her mouth. He brought his hand up to rest against the side of her neck as she moved the toy in and out to take it deeper. She’d gotten better at managing it more quickly. Belle looked up at him, pushing the end of the dildo to the back of her mouth, and tilted her head back to ease its way into her throat. She took pride in showing him how she could finally get it all the way down without really struggling.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek while she had over half the dildo’s length down her throat. “Beautiful.”

She’d have smiled, if she could have. A wave of happiness went through her with his approval. 

“That’s enough,” he told her after another moment, and she slowly removed the toy, letting the head pop out from between her lips. “Well done. I think you may deserve a treat.”

Ian took a loose key from his waistcoat pocket, unlocking a deadbolt newly installed on the guest room door. He pushed the door wide and reached in to turn the light on before gesturing her ahead of him once again. After following, he turned the bolt back. There was less than no chance that anyone would come into the house, let alone upstairs and to this room in particular, but he’d far rather the pair of them be secure.

Her jaw dropped and she made a breathy ‘oh’ sound as she turned in a circle to take a first look. He was certain there were things he’d overlooked and would want later, but they could always be ordered. Belle was sure to have desires surface that he would need to attend to. She seemed to like what she saw thus far, though.

“They’ve made some leaps in safety and convenience since I last had occasion to buy sex toys and equipment,” he said, following her line of sight when her attention lingered on this and that around the playroom.

“Is this the surprise?” she asked, turning to him. “Because this isn’t small.”

“No, no. Your surprise still waits,” he answered with a grin, taking the training dildo from her to leave it in a small storage container set aside for toys in need of cleaning. “Have a look around. Peek into things, open drawers. You’ll get your surprise later.”

Belle walked around, doing just as he suggested. The playroom wasn’t what she expected. It was _pretty._ She felt comfortable there, and safe. Anxious in a good way. There was a conspicuous absence of foreboding and fear, and she understood now why Ian had been so persistent in asking after her preferences. He’d asked her opinion and actually took it into account. She wasn’t sure she would grow used to that.

“This was a guest room?” she asked, giving one wall and then the opposite end a suspicious look. It seemed like a great deal of space. “Just one?”

He hesitated, clearing his throat. “Well. I may have overshot my plans when I set out. What I had in mind turned out to necessitate knocking down a wall. Or two.”

“Ian!” She laughed and clapped a hand over her mouth. 

“There are more than enough spare rooms in the house, most of them never used. Not since it’s been in my possession, at least,” he reasoned. “I couldn’t have asked for a better use for these.”

She went back to him, bouncing up higher onto her toes to drop a kiss on his cheek. “It’s wonderful. Perfect.”

The room itself was painted a pretty, muted blue and boasted redone hardwood floors. A portion of the wall directly across from the door had been ‘framed’ to display a large number of spanking implements. She recognized a couple, and the rest made her backside tingle with anticipation for getting to know each and every one. There was a heavy wooden chest on the floor below them, and a peek inside told her there were more impact toys of all sorts stored there, as well. 

“We may need more art on the walls, but we can discuss that later,” he said as she explored.

A restored French provincial hutch sat against the wall just to the right of the door, its glass front cupboards home to all of the dildos, vibrators, plugs, and such they’d sat in his living room to open together, as well as quite a few she hadn’t seen before. The drawers beneath stored non-penetrative toys - restraints, sets of clamps, gags, and a handful of sensation toys that she very much looked forward to. A daybed of the same style had been placed at the far end of the playroom.

There were a few pieces of equipment out that made no attempt at camouflage, and she enjoyed the contrast between them and the more traditionally pretty furnishings. A large wooden frame sat in the far lefthand corner, the open space made serviceable for bondage with chains connected in a spiderweb design. The frame was doubled so that it could be adjusted back and forth, flat, even upside down, if someone were so inclined, and she dearly hoped that Ian was. A nicely-made wooden sawhorse had been placed nearby, and on the wall above it, there hung on paired brackets what seemed to be a couple of interchangeable pieces that could be switched out with the plain leather pad.

Just down from the bed, a pair of armchairs and a large ottoman matching the rest of the furniture sat near one window. From their position, one could easily observe anything going on around the playroom. A plain spanking bench covered in nice, deep brown leather sat between the chairs and daybed - convenient placement. Back toward the other end of the room, out in the wide open between the door and paddle display, there was a shiny, stainless steel pole, not quite waist high, installed in the floor with sturdy bolts through a circular plate at its base. She wasn’t sure of its use, but it appeared to be adjustable by height. Belle opened her mouth to ask Ian about the pole, but before she could, something else caught her eye. Smiling, she practically skipped over, past the sawhorse, to a simple manual machine with a pair of oblong pads on top.

“That’s a monkey rocker,” Ian said when he saw her eyeing it.

“I know what it is.” She shot a happy look over her shoulder at him and knelt down to look closer. “I’ve been dying to play with one.”

He couldn’t help smiling at how thrilled she was with the toy. With _everything._ “Now you have one.”

There was no dildo attached, but she straddled the rocker base and sat down, testing out the motion. It moved smoothly with her, the mechanism that would hold a toy lowering as she rocked back and then arcing up toward her cunt when she rocked forward.

Ian’s mouth went dry. “Since you like that, how would you feel about something more… automated?”

“Powered machines? Yes!” She stopped, her eyes lighting up as she looked at him. Turning a bit sheepish, she corrected herself. “Yes, Sir. You do mean machines, don’t you?”

“I do. And apparently I should keep a lookout for something interesting.”

“Yes, please, Sir,” Belle agreed with a sweeter politeness as she stood and moved away from the rocker. 

She went to one of two windows at the other side of the room, pulling back the cream lace curtain to look out over the flowering bushes in the side yard. A blackout shade had been installed between the curtain and window, pulled to fold itself up near the top. When she stepped back, she looked up - the only place she _hadn’t_ really inspected yet - to find the occasional clusters of heavy duty eye screws embedded in the ceiling. She eagerly anticipated whatever he had planned for them. 

There was a door in the wall between the spider web frame and daybed, made of clear glass with a blind sandwiched in between. It was the sort meant to be useful for privacy, but she knew that Ian was aware of her silly anxieties over being left alone during playtime. She would be able to see him from most spots in the room. 

Opening the door, she found the bathroom unfinished. Straight across from her, there was a vessel sink with a wide, scroll-edged mirror hanging above it. Ian moved her aside so that he could step past into the room. He went to the sink and closed the drain, setting something down in the bowl with a metallic _clink,_ and ran steaming water in with it.

“There’ll be a spacious walk-in shower there before next weekend,” he explained as he walked back to her, pointing off to the left. An open area waited. The opposite side of the bathroom had a similar prepared space, though the floor there had been cut away to recess it. “I have a whirlpool tub on order. And you’ll have nice, warm rugs to step out on when it’s all together.”

He smiled and stroked a fingertip under her chin before moving past her again. The lighting was soft, not a glare present in it. He’d thought of _everything._ She didn’t have words to tell him how grateful she was for how he’d taken her weird personal quirks into account.

With a hand wrapped around her upper arm, he drew her away from the bathroom and back across the room, toward the full wall of mirrors to the right of the playroom door. She looked at him in the reflection as he took off his jacket and folded it carefully over, laying it on the counter of the hutch. When he returned, his expression was darker, his eyes hungrier, and she felt that flutter in her stomach.

“Strip,” he ordered, rolling his ‘R’ and growling the word behind her.

There was no thought to obeying. Belle reached down immediately, bringing her foot up to take off one shoe, then the other. She unzipped her skirt and let it drop before shedding her purple cardigan and thin, flowered blouse onto the same pile. Her fingers trembled with her hurry as she worked her tights and panties down together, dropping the rolled up wad of them aside. It felt as though she took twice as long as it should have to get her bra unhooked and off.

When she looked up at him in the mirror for approval, he gave her a single nod and walked away. She watched as he went to the hutch, reaching up to take something from the very top. He returned with a slim, square black box, holding it so that she couldn’t see inside when he took the lid off.

“I believe you’ve earned your surprise,” he told her.

She blinked up at him. “Sir?”

Ian could plainly see how keyed up she was. She held herself back, pretending some semblance of patience, but she twisted her fingers together and gave herself away.

He uncoiled a custom made collar from the gift box and set the container aside before running the length of supple, dove gray leather between his hands. A pair of tiny bells hung to either side of the loop and ring on the front, tinkling merrily. The rose gold hardware would flatter her skin, particularly when she was flushed. It was simply a play collar, but he’d agonized over choosing the right one for her. 

“This is meant only for the hours we’re alone together,” he said as he lifted it over her head to bring it around front. “I’ll keep it with me, and we’ll put it on you before we begin.”

She reached up to gather and hold her hair. “Yes, Sir,” she breathed, eyes wide and shining with emotion as she met his gaze in the reflection. 

“Have you worn a collar before?” Ian asked. He slipped the end through the buckle and secured it just snug around her neck. “Of any sort?”

“Yes, Sir,” Belle said with the slightest nod. She recalled a handful of nights with one ex and parties with another, and those were not memories she wanted in her head right now. She needed Ian to clear it all out. “A few times. Not like this, though, Sir.”

His hand was almost hot on her bare back. “Do you still want to wear one?”

“Yes, Sir,” she answered. 

He took her hands so that she dropped her hair, moving them back down to her sides, and pressed her back against him. “This is your play collar,” he told her, his voice taking on a more soothing note that eased the nerves set on edge by memories. “What did I say about it?”

“It’s for when we’re together, Sir,” Belle repeated. 

“And it by no means keeps you from saying no to anything you don’t want or walking away.” He ran his fingers up her forearms. “Understand?”

She nodded, leaning into him. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good. Now, I want you to fold your clothes and place them on top of the hutch counter. Shoes on the floor next to it,” Ian instructed. He waited until she bent to reach for her blouse before he stepped away to the bathroom.

Doing as he said, she took her things one at a time, folding each article and making a neat stack of them. She did the best she could with her tights. He came back with something in his hand - glinting metal, a bulb at one end and a base at the other. _Oh._ So that was what he’d left in hot water.

She held her bottom lip between her teeth in anticipation as he approached her, taking her arm to steer her over to the spanking bench. “Hands flat,” he told her, nudging her forward.

Her hair fell down both sides as she bent over to press her palms against the soft brown leather. He bumped the inside of her bare feet with the toe of his shoe, encouraging her to move them farther apart, and she felt him stand close to her. His presence was warm near her left hip. His hand, rubbing across her lower back, soothed the muscles beneath as he touched her. 

“That’s it. Relax,” he said as he brought the butt plug up between her legs. “It’s just a bit bigger than the last. We’ll take it slowly.”

The toy was _almost_ hot when he slid it along her slit, turning and wetting it. He got tantalizingly near her clitoris before backing off without touching it. She’d never taken the time to change the temperature of a toy, always too impatient for her orgasm to try those sorts of extras. The sensations though - pleasure from increasing blood flow to an already sensitized part of her, heat pulling tension away from those small, inner muscles that she was usually unaware of. She gave a deep, heartfelt sigh as he pushed the plug easily into her pussy. 

“Occasionally I do wonder if I’ll ever need to bring out the lube, but you… you’re just too easy to turn on, aren’t you?” Ian remarked from behind her. He pulled the toy out of her and dragged it back, pressing the tip into her ass. “It’s a miracle you don’t have to put towels down to sit.”

Belle snickered to herself, his remark striking her with a memory that hadn’t come to mind in years. She had a story to tell him later she was sure he’d get a kick out of. 

He gave the plug a firmer push in response, and her laughter turned into a squeak. “Would you like to share what you find so funny?”

It wasn’t exactly a long story, but it was an _embarrassing_ one, and absolutely the kind of thing Ian would enjoy knowing about her. Her cheeks burned as she tried to sort her thoughts to explain. 

“There was a boy,” she began.

He pulled the toy back before sliding it into her just a fraction of an inch deeper. “Speak up.”

“A boy,” she said again, gasping the word out. “There was a boy, Sir. An older one. I had a bad daydreaming habit, and I- I-” Belle’s words fell away as she moaned, feeling herself stretch around the plug as he worked it in.

“You were saying?” Ian reminded, and she had to bring her wits back together enough to go on.

“I had daydreams about him constantly. But this one fantasy, I guess it was particularly good…” She licked her lips, her face going hot. “I soaked through my panties and skirt, onto the chair seat.”

He responded with a hum of amusement. “So, what you’re telling me is that you’ve always been a slut. I appreciate your candor.”

“Yes, Sir,” she agreed, and a little burr of humiliation prickled in her stomach. It made her all the more eager for everything he had in store today.

She whined when he gave the toy a slow turn with more pressure behind it. Her fingers pressed against the leather of the bench. Closing her eyes, she breathed through the intensity, concentrating on the way the burn and stretch made her pussy throb.

“Belle,” he said, holding just where they were to demand her attention. The steady hand that rested on her lower back moved up, petting below her shoulderblades. “Is it too much? Have we gone larger too soon?”

Another sound escaped on her breath out before she could answer. “No, Sir. It’s good. Good, good, Sir.”

“Would you tell me if it _were_ too much?” Ian asked, a shade of warning in his tone.

“Yes, Sir,” she did her best to assure him. “Please, don’t stop, Sir?”

His hand ran down into the small of her back again, this time creating a soothing pattern as his thumb rubbed firmly over the base of her spine. Her knees already felt weak. She would _happily_ kneel, but he hadn’t told her to. Belle’s toes pressed against the cool hardwood and she resolved to stay on her feet until he guided her otherwise. 

“We’re going to get through the widest bit now, sweetheart,” he told her. “Are you ready?”

“Ready. Yes, Sir.” The bells on her collar jingled when she nodded.

Ian didn’t waste time. He pulled back on the toy, fucking her ass with it, working it into her hole. Objectively, she knew the plug wasn’t enormous. She’d seen it in his hand when he returned from the bathroom, and it hardly looked bigger than the glass one he had given her. But she could certainly _feel_ the increase in size. 

It went in and in, so slowly, and oh, God, it had to be close. She felt wide open. Just as she began wondering whether she could take it after all, the plug slid in and the stretch relieved. There was a slight tug from him keeping hold of the toy’s base as her body pulled the bulb in the rest of the way.

“Fuck… fuck…” she swore under her breath. 

The overwhelming feeling faded some and pleasure came to the forefront. Heat stored in the metal continued radiating into her and she could feel her pulse in her clit, making her need so much worse. Belle wondered idly how big he wanted to go with what he put in her ass before he’d be satisfied by what she could take. The not knowing excited her.

He petted across her backside. “You did so well,” he said before moving his hand away. “I look forward to filling this pretty arse with cock.”

“Yes, Sir,” she panted, doing good to stay in position, much less process his delightfully filthy talk. “Yes, Sir. Me, too.”

“You, too? What is it that you want?” He turned to stand behind her, bracing her hips with his hands. The front of his trousers rubbed across her bottom.

He was hard. She could feel it. The way he pushed up against her moved the plug, stealing every word from her head. The only sound that came out of her mouth was one of frustration until she could give him a semi-coherent answer.

She whimpered the words out. “Your cock in my ass, Sir.”

“Mm, you’re out of luck today, then. But you might keep hope alive for next time.” Ian gave her backside a good, hard slap. “Stay.”

He went to the hutch, sorting through a not entirely organized drawer set aside for restraints. When he turned back to her, he had to take a moment to appreciate the scene before him. She stayed still, just as he’d instructed, bent over with her arse sticking up in the air. The faceted aqua gem in the plug’s base glinted - there was no hiding it, spread wide as she was. Below it, he could see her cunt, eager and open. She really was the prettiest sight from any angle. And he was well aware how lucky he was.

Ian went to her, placing a hand over her shoulder to help her stand upright. “Feet together.”

She was beginning to grow unsteady, but that wasn’t unusual for her at this point in play. She did as he told her. He took hold of her arm above the elbow and brought her over a couple of steps to provide them more room, then turned her to face away from him.

“Let’s keep those hands under control, shall we?” he said, and he guided her arms behind her.

“Yes, Sir,” she responded, marginally calmer.

He unlocked the tiny padlock with the key kept safely paired in its end and tucked both into his pocket, letting the cuffs fall open. They were a nice set of rose gold cross cuffs, handy in a single piece. Four curved arms hinged on a single point and came together to bind Belle’s wrists securely across one another. He slipped the lock back into place through the holes that lined up just so, clicking it shut.

Ian began circling her. “Just because you aren’t getting cock in your arse doesn’t mean we can’t find somewhere else for it,” he said, stopping to remove his cufflinks and roll up his shirtsleeves in front of her before continuing on. “You’ve two more perfectly good holes, don’t you?”

She gave a small, shuddering groan before answering. “Yes, Sir.”

Walking behind her, he let a hand drag across her side and over her bound arms, holding onto her hip as he stepped around to face her again. He watched her face as his free hand came up to slide between her legs. She looked straight at him, her eyelids fluttering when he touched her. Lightly, teasing, he stroked along her slit. He slid his first two fingers inside her and brought them forward as he pulled them out so that his fingertips grazed along either side of her clit. A long, soft whine came from her throat. She knew better than to ask for or expect an orgasm so soon. The pleading in her eyes was delightful though.

He wiped a streak of wetness across her mound before stepping back. “Fetch a cushion from the bed.”

It took Belle a second to sort out his order. Moving toward the daybed, she made her way over to it with a couple of slow first steps, thoroughly enjoying the way the plug sat heavily inside her as she walked. She thought about turning around to try for the cushion with her hands, but decided that it would be slightly less awkward to just lean down and take the corner of it between her teeth. Ian was watching her patiently when she headed back to him. 

“Aren’t you clever?” he remarked, a smile twitching at one side of his mouth. “On the floor at my feet. The cushion, then you.”

Bending, she swung the cushion out from herself to drop it into place and knelt onto it. She leaned in to nuzzle at the front of his trousers. He was warm against her face, the black linen of his suit soft over the swell of his erection. One of his hands came up to pet her hair, and she tipped her head back to look up at him.

“You’ve been good so far today, haven’t you?” He grazed the back of his fingers over her temple. “Do you think you deserve a cock in your mouth?”

“Yes, Sir,” she answered quickly.

It did feel like a reward when he began unbuckling his belt. Just the sound made her mouth water for him. Her eyes followed the motion as he unzipped his trousers and pushed them down his hips together with his boxers, allowing her access to his cock. She brushed her open lips down the length along one side, then licked back toward the head, pressing a kiss of thanks there before taking him into her mouth. 

Both of his hands went to her hair, combing it away from her face and curling his fingers into it to hold fistfuls of her waves. She wanted him to take control, to use her mouth, to do with her anything and everything he wanted. It was what she’d been so vigilant with her practice for. When his grip on her hair tightened and he pulled her forward a little, she made a helpless sound around him. Another inch of his cock slid into her mouth, then another. She looked up at him again, her eyes wide. Waiting. _Begging._

He guided her up and down, going gradually deeper, and she sucked him the way she would for any other blow job until he was ready for more. Pulling her off him, he stopped with only the head between her lips.

“All the way down this time,” he told her, giving her warning before bringing her forward again.

The head slid to the back of her mouth and he didn’t hesitate, pushing down, down, down. Belle thrilled at the feeling of it, of the stretch and pressure of his cock in her throat. Above her, he made a low, hungry sound and pushed her farther, bringing her closer to his body until her nose pressed up against his abdomen. Right where she was supposed to be. A happy excitement fizzed through her. 

“There you go. Keep it as long as you can. Good girl,” he encouraged, his voice sounding tight and strained and far away to her ears. 

She was dying to touch herself. Her hands twisted in the restraints behind her back with the desperation for it. It was _such_ a good thing he’d bound her, because she didn’t think she would’ve been able to resist on her own. 

Ian counted slowly aloud. She trusted him, resisting the instinct to pull back when her air began to run short. Just as the need became more immediate, he reached ten and pulled her off his cock. She drew one gasp and then another, and it didn’t take long for her breathing to even out.

He took a hand from her hair to stroke his fingertips along the underside of her jaw. “Do you want to stop?”

“No!” she managed, her voice hoarse. “No, Sir.”

“Open,” Ian commanded.

She opened her mouth for him. Lifting his hand again, he brought her all the way back down almost smoothly, only paused by an instant of delay as she reminded herself to relax. Her thoughts were beginning to feel too soft and hazy to hold onto, and she stopped trying. Belle gave her entire self over to his control. 

Going as lax as she could while still staying up on her knees, she luxuriated in him fucking her throat. He went gently - as gentle as could be managed in such a position - and it was easy to let her mind go and just be his. She couldn’t see his face past a certain point between going down and having her nose pressed to his skin, but when he pulled her off for air, she caught an instant of his eyes squeezed shut before he opened them to look down at her. He enjoyed himself with the use of her, and nothing could have been more wonderful. 

There was no hope for keeping count of anything in her state. Her world centered on the filling of her mouth, the slide into her throat, the pressure, ache, then emptiness when he moved her head back. He began making shallower thrusts into her mouth. A moment later he came with a deep groan, his come pulsing against her palate, pooling across her tongue. She swallowed once, then again when he gave her one last spurt before he was done.

He took a step back to pull his trousers up and right himself in them. It could hardly be called space, but it left her missing his hands guiding her movement, feeling at every loose end. A sound escaped without her truly meaning for it to, and he glanced up at her as he threaded his belt back through the buckle.

“Have you earned a spanking, do you think?” he asked, tugging his waistcoat straight.

She stared up at him for a moment before it occurred to her that she needed to answer. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, nodding a bit unevenly.

The marks on her backside were faded, nearly gone. She missed the sting and ache when she sat down, the unexpected reminder when she bumped into something and got a dulled shock of pain. A spanking meant she would get more, ideally, and she craved them. Her bottom shifted where she’d rested it on her heels.

Ian reached down, catching a hand around her arm to bring her to her feet. He held onto her until he was certain that she wasn’t too wobbly to stay there. She gave him a look of adoration that sped his heart up in a way that had nothing to do with afterglow.

He kissed her cheek, then the corner of her mouth, enjoying the small movements she made in seeking more. When he brushed a kiss over her lips, she drew a breath that felt every bit as though she tried to breathe him in. 

“Take the cushion back where you got it,” he told her. He stayed just out of reach of another kiss. “After you do that, you can go over and choose what you want to be spanked with.”

Her expression sharpened up at that. Ian bent to pick the cushion up and held the corner near her lips so that she could take it again. She opened her mouth, accepting it between her teeth, and turned to obey. It was an easy order, having her return the cushion. Belle left it in approximately the same place on the daybed before turning to go back to the display of implements. 

As he expected, she went for the chest underneath. He stopped her. “Ah-ah. Choose from the wall.”

The chest held a few canes of varied lengths and materials, a couple of crops, a pair of very nice custom floggers - items too large or that wouldn’t fit with the neat wall display. And none of them were for use _quite_ yet.

She cast a look back at him, just a shade petulant, but restricted her attention to the display. Ian watched her as she tried to make a decision. She seemed overwhelmed. For a moment, he wondered whether he should have made her choice simpler for today. There was something that had caught her eye, though. He could see how she calculated, neither able to reach it with her hands nor mouth. She considered a paddle on a hook lower down - one that she could easily take by lifting off the slender leather loop it hung by. It wasn’t what she truly wanted, however, and her eyes returned to a higher point, her fingers wiggling thoughtfully behind her.

How long would it take her to ask for help in fetching it down, he wondered. He grinned to himself when she tested how much more height she could achieve by going up on her tiptoes, then gave the lid of the chest a contemplative look. Finally, she turned.

“Am I allowed to ask for help, Sir?” she asked quietly.

Ian smiled. “You’re always allowed to ask for help.”

“I can’t reach.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and pulled it back out. “Help me, Sir?”

He went to her, standing for a moment with his arm just behind her shoulder. “Which one is it you want?”

“Second row, third one, Sir,” Belle said, and he could feel the way she looked at him as he reached up to the display.

The paddle she’d indicated was rather plain, made of heavy black silicone through and through. It was a fair size, though, rounded on the end, and it had a slight flex to it that provided options. He figured it would bring nice welts with a good, hard swing. 

“An interesting choice,” he said, patting the end of the paddle against the underside of one of her breasts and then the other. “We’ll see what I can do to that arse with it, hm? Go over to the ottoman.”

Ian admired the sway of her bottom as she went across the room in eager obedience. He followed more slowly. She would require help again for what he intended; he slipped the paddle’s handle into his trouser pocket to free his hands for her.

“I want you lying on your stomach.” With a foot, he pushed the ottoman away from the armchairs to make space. And he waited. She would either ask for help or have to flop herself onto the piece of furniture gracelessly.

After a moment, she understood. She turned to him with a quirk of resignation in her expression. “Help me, Sir?” she asked again.

Standing behind her, he wrapped his hands around her upper arms near the shoulder. “Lean forward, knee up.”

She did as he said and he braced her, lowering her so that her head rested just at the far edge. He gave her backside an affectionate swat.

“Spread your legs wide. Wider,” he said when she opened them. “You’re to straddle the ottoman. I want to see your cunt while I spank you.”

Belle made a breathy, needful sound into the upholstery. She had to tilt her hips in to get into the position he asked of her. He had a nice view for himself when she accomplished it. 

Taking hold of the cuffs, he repositioned her hands so that they rested in the small of her back and safely out of the way. He pulled the paddle from his pocket, testing its weight. The silicone was silky smooth, the balance excellent, and standing over her would give him an excellent arc into each strike. She’d enjoy herself. He would make sure of it.

“We need to give you a good warming up. It’s been a fair few days since that arse has seen a paddle.” Ian adjusted his grip on the handle and gave a light smack to either cheek, then repeated the motion with a touch more speed behind it. “Poor slut, nary a mark in sight. Do you want me to fix that?”

“Yes, Sir, please,” Belle said, turning her head so that she could see him. 

Using the end of the paddle, he brushed her hair to one side. “You ask so nicely.”

He drew his arm back and gave her a pair of sharper swats to each side, going back and forth at the same intensity for a few rounds. Warming her up, _indeed._ Her backside remained at a steady burn by the time he finished the series of middling strikes.

She barely had a chance to breathe in and out before he continued. He went harder, continuing his rhythm of two and two, turning the warmth into a fire. The first of the heat spread, washing up her back, across the backs and inside of her thighs, over her pussy. She gave a series of moans as each impact sent a throb through her clit. The position Ian had her in, she couldn’t so much as press her thighs together, and that had her frustration climbing.

The muscles at the back of her thighs and calves burned with the strain of straddling the wide ottoman. A stinging twinge in the soles of her feet gave her the continual urge to adjust her toes against the floor. She did her best to stay still. One particular spank caught the crease under her ass cheek just right with the edge of the paddle, making her body jerk, and a flash of pleasure ran along her nerves. It took her only an instant to realize she’d rubbed herself against the cushion when she startled. Without thought, she kept at it, angling her hips and rubbing until she essentially humped into the ottoman while Ian kept up the pace of her spanking.

He stopped. She felt his hand splay wide over the base of her spine, pressing down to force her still.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his words sounding very measured.

Belle rubbed her face against the brocade upholstery before chancing a look back at him again. “I’m sorry, Sir.”

“I don’t believe you are.” He rubbed the paddle over her ass. It felt nice, almost soft, the silicone cool against her scorched backside. “You’d have kept going until you came if I hadn’t caught you. Wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, Sir,” she confessed.

“Sneaky little whore. Suppose it’s a good thing I stopped you, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir, very good thing.”

He gave a couple of light taps to the base of the plug. “I’d hate to have to give you a punishment that you _wouldn’t_ enjoy,” he claimed, but there was entirely too much glee in his voice for her to think it might be an actual disappointment.

His hand left her back and her stomach tingled with an instant of anticipation before the paddle met her ass again. His strikes came down more slowly, harder, and he went to inflicting one at a time as he took the spanking to a more intense place. Belle’s breathing quickened and she heard herself whine loudly on each exhale, unable to hold back on the sound. The impacts jarred through her. Her ass felt blistered, and every strike was like a lick of fire across her skin. 

The fog in her head grew heavier, drawing her in, and she let herself float on it. From some increasing distance, she could feel her muscles trembling. The only thing that reached her with any clarity was the sharp, delicious pain of each spank he gave her. 

She felt the urge to cry rise in her chest, a relentless ache behind her breastbone, and it didn’t take long before she couldn’t hold back. It was such a profound _relief_ to have tears drawn out of her to the point of not being able to choke them down. The broad ache in her chest turned into a sensation sweeter and higher pitched as tears finally gathered and ran across her nose, down her temple to soak into the cushion. The release of a sob shuddering through her was almost pleasurable. Being in safety enough to allow herself to cry so hard and so audibly was something beyond catharsis. Belle cried with great, hiccupping sobs that echoed off the playroom walls along with the crack of the paddle against her skin. 

Ian carried on with her spanking after she broke, giving her a good handful more strikes on her upper thighs. He concluded it with a few extra in the crease below the plump curve of her arse cheeks, where it would sear nicely if so much as her clothing brushed the marks for a day or two.

It was a satisfying thing, witnessing the change in color of her soft, pale bottom over the course of the spanking. The flush of pink with his first warming strikes, to bright and cheerful red, into a darker, purpling red as he went harder on her. He could almost watch the raised weals surface across her skin in curls the shape of the paddle, and he knew precisely where the bruises would develop.

Her pretty arse jiggled with the last of his ‘punishment.’ He set the paddle aside on the nearer armchair and petted across her back just above the point where her marks began. The instinct he had to shush her tears was a counterproductive one. She wanted a hard cry. It was his privilege to give her that as often as she needed it. 

She still shook under his touch when he squatted down to bring his face closer to hers. “Can you get up, Belle?”

He didn’t receive much in the way of an answer. She was off in the stratosphere somewhere, thoroughly out of it, and he wasn’t even certain she’d heard him. Ian reached out, wiping a tear streak away from the bridge of her nose with his thumb. 

“Belle,” he addressed her more firmly. “We haven’t discussed fucking you when you’re in this state, and that isn’t a discussion we’re going to touch in the heat of the moment. You’re going to have to come back to me a bit before we keep going. Do you understand?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing tears free at the corners. When she opened them again, not quite so glazed over, she seemed to better register his presence.

Ian gave her a smile. “There you are. You know what I want. Give me a few words, darling.”

A soft sob escaped as she opened her mouth. “Sir… Here, Sir.”

“Good. Now, do you think you can get up?” he asked again.

She sniffled, but she nodded. Standing, he took Belle’s arm to pull her up and to the side, giving her leverage to fold one leg under her and sit before he brought her to her feet. 

“Back on your knees.” He helped ease her down to the floor when she moved right away to obey. There was still the occasional tear and hiccupping breath in her, and she gazed up at him with wide blue eyes, her color high with emotion and arousal. Touching beneath her chin with a fingertip, he told her, “Follow me, sweetheart,” before turning to walk away.

Belle followed him to the daybed, feeling awkward as she moved forward only on her knees, the brand new marks on her backside burning with every motion she made to get there. She concentrated on each few inches forward. Ian watched her with a curious intensity in his face, sitting down on the bed and leaning against the side so that he reclined. He opened his belt and trousers again, waiting for her.

Everything in her wanted nothing more than to please him, to be his. The chiming of the bells on her collar reminded her that she _was._ If only for the time she wore it. He was hard again, the shape of him pushing up against the exposed front of his boxers. When he pushed everything down so that his clothing was out of the way, his erection laid up against his abdomen. Her breath hiccupped again at the sight of it. She wanted him more than she could understand, herself, much less sort out into words. 

Belle felt an calming willingness to do anything he asked, to fulfill any demand he made of her. Anything, anything. Anything that made her more _his._

His hands rested laced together on his stomach until she reached the bedside. “Come here. I want you backward on me,” he said, curling a hand around her upper arm again.

Her legs were so shaky she wasn’t sure she could have gotten up without stumbling otherwise, and she was grateful for the help he gave her. She got to her feet rather slowly. It took her what seemed a very long time to sort out which knee to rest where so that she could put herself in the position he’d decided upon. He steadied her once again, or she didn’t think she could have managed it.

“Your left knee. Put it on the mattress next to my knee there and swing your right leg over,” he guided.

She did as he said, and he took her other arm, as well, to steer her into place straddling his thighs. He pulled her toward him, making her legs slide in the blanket. With a hand on her back, he pushed her to lean forward, exposing her wide open to him, and dragged her back a little more. He positioned her like a toy to use. The idea made her whimper. His skin was hot against her own where he’d bared himself, and she thought she might die waiting to feel his cock. When he finally pushed it down, bumping the butt plug and sliding his cock head through her labia on the way, she moaned, her hips jerking forward and back in search of more.

He gave her ass a slap, making her suck a stuttering gasp back in. “Be patient.”

Her breath came in deep pants. She found herself dizzy and lightheaded, _trying_ to do as she was told, _trying_ to be good. The wait felt impossible. Holding onto the restraints binding her wrists with one hand, he used the other to bring his cock back to line up with her hole. In a smooth motion, before she could react to the sensation, Ian moved his hand to her hip and pulled her down on his cock.

Needing him inside her with a desperation bordering on madness and finally having him there sent stars twisting around at the edges of her vision. She cried out at the sensation of being suddenly filled with him right to the hilt. 

“You wanted to hump something. Now have at it,” he said, the hand at her hip going up to wrap in her hair. “I want to see you fuck yourself.”

The way he said it made her face prickle with embarrassment. But God, she was relieved to have his permission. She was a whore, but she was his whore, and for today that was enough. 

Ian found no hesitation at all in her movements. She surrendered to his hold, and he hoped part of that was her trust in him, but he knew it was a result of how badly he’d worked her up. The only noises in the room were the sounds of need from both of them and the bells on her play collar as she fucked herself on his cock. He had the most wonderful view as she began working her cunt up and down on him - of the marks he’d given her, of his cock sliding in and out of her, of her stretched around him.

A tightening started forming deep in his abdomen. He let go of her hair and wrapped his arm around her, pressing an open hand over her lower belly, sliding it down over her mound. Her vulva spread open as it was, her clit was exposed, making it easily found and manipulated. He took the tiny bud between his forefinger and thumb, pinching and pulling at it, demanding an orgasm from her body. The insistent stimulation made her cunt contract around him.

“Sir, Sir, _Sir…”_ she huffed on frantic breaths, and he could hear the need flayed raw in her voice.

He was close. It was time to allow Belle her reward. “I want you to come,” he snarled out between teeth clenched against his own climax. “Come hard, slut. I want to hear it.”

Ian came inside her as soon as the command was out of his mouth, his hips hitching up into her in short, rough thrusts. He let go of her restraints and circled her waist with his arm, bringing her back to sit up straight and holding her down on him. She clenched almost painfully around his cock with a well deserved orgasm.

She threw her head back and screamed, her hips jerking against him with the need to move and not being allowed it. He kept at her clitoris, rolling it hard between tight fingers, forcing her toward coming again. Belle grunted as it hit her, her hands curled into tight fists, her knees pressing in against his lower thighs, and he felt her body convulse in the throes of a second orgasm.

He took his hand away but held onto her until she began to go limp. Sitting up, Ian leaned them both carefully until they rested on their sides. The limit of her movement turned out to be an effort to curl her legs up.

“Such a good come whore,” he purred to her in praise, slipping a hand between her legs to pet her pussy, rubbing his come into her where it had begun to drip out. He pressed kisses to the side of her neck. “We filled two holes today, didn’t we?”

“Yes, Sir,” she said contentedly, the words half melting into a sigh.

Lying spooned up behind her was comfortable in so many ways. He’d have liked to stay there, to fall asleep with her, with his face buried in her hair. It had been an energy devouring scene for them both, but he still had more to look after for her before he could rest.

With great reluctance, he unwrapped himself from her to fish the key from his pocket. He opened the small padlock and took it off the cuffs, letting them fall open. Setting the restraints aside on the bed, Ian rubbed her hands, massaging the center of her palms with his thumbs.

“Do your hands and wrists feel okay?” he asked.

She hummed a, “Mmm…” that trailed off into silence.

He dropped a kiss on her shoulder and moved onto his back, shifting around to right his underwear and trousers again before sitting up. Belle turned her head so that she could see him and grumbled at the distance.

“I know,” he replied softly to her complaint. “We need to get you cleaned up, though. Stay as you are there.”

Curled up the way she was, he didn’t have to ask her to move to take the plug out of her. He petted comfortingly down her back. She couldn’t have gotten much more relaxed. Going slowly, he took hold of the toy’s base and started with a gradual pull back to remove it. She moaned, and he wasn’t sure what the particular pitch of the sound meant.

He let the plug slide in again on its own. “Belle? Does that hurt?”

“Little bit,” she admitted and turned her face to press it into the blanket. “Get it out, Sir?”

Rubbing firmly in the small of her back with the hand that wasn’t busy, he eased the butt plug out of her. She released a shaky breath when it was over. He pulled a handkerchief from his trouser pocket to clean his hands and wrap the toy in. Next time he would have towels handy - a small oversight easily corrected.

“Are you all right?” he inquired again.

Her insides seemed as if they trembled, but that was down to how tired she was and how rattled her nerves were with two orgasms after the extent of his teasing. “All right, Sir.”

His hands moved to her hair, his fingers gentle on the back of her neck, and it only occurred to Belle when she felt the slip of leather through the buckle that he was taking the collar off her. She was surprised to find tears spring to her eyes. These tears she blinked away, not wanting him to see them. It was only a play collar. They’d both agreed on that. It was stupid to get emotional over it being taken off.

“Time to sit up.” Ian patted her hip. 

She had that limp noodle feeling again. When she squirmed a bit with the intention of eventually trying to take his suggestion, he helped her, bringing her all the way up. Her backside felt as though she sat on a layer of hot coals. She couldn’t help the wince that went through her. That would be enjoyable later, but right now, with her arousal waned and exhaustion setting in, it just hurt.

“I’m taking you across the hall to my bathroom, to the shower,” he said as he stood from the daybed, encouraging her along with him. “Did you bring something to change into?”

She shook her head. “Didn’t think about it. Sorry, Sir.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll manage.”

Putting a secure arm around her, he guided her toward the door. Belle leaned heavily into him. She felt as though she’d run ten miles _and_ won the race, happy and jelly-legged and ready for a long nap. Only by clinging to Ian did she keep on her feet as well as she did. By the time he got them into the hallway, she fully realized that her steps were about as gainly as a newborn giraffe in spite of doing her best.

“Sweetheart…” There was blatant amusement in his voice. “Hold on. Here.”

He stopped them at his bedroom door to push it open wide and swept her up in his arms. Belle gave him a startled look that turned into a smile. The happy glow left behind her ribcage by their playtime seemed to double. She relaxed against him, resting her head in the side of his neck.

The trip between the door and bathroom was far too short, and she was out of his arms far too soon. He put her on her feet next to the bathtub and kept a hand on her arm until she sat down on the edge, leaving her there while he turned the shower on and gathered linens from a cupboard beside the sink. His methodical movements and stride back and forth were soothing. 

She was near drifting off when he touched her shoulder. “I’m going back to get your clothes. Won’t be a minute,” he said, touching her cheek before stepping out of the room.

Ian returned before she had time to get too fidgety. As promised, he had her things, but he also brought a slatted wooden stool back with him.

He gave her a grin. “Did you think I meant to make you sit on the shower floor?” 

“I could stand,” she claimed, fairly certain she couldn’t. “Probably.”

Setting her clothes on the counter, he took her panties from the top and dropped them in the hamper before crossing to the shower to turn the spray down and set the stool inside. He came back to fetch her.

“Do you want me to carry you over?” he teased as he offered his hand.

Belle knew he would if she said yes, and she was tempted. She took his hand, though, pulling herself up, and he towed her over with it. He shooed her on into the shower. The inside was warm and steamy, and the chill was taken off the stool when she sat. Reaching over her, he turned the shower head so that it rained off center, over the top of her head and down her back. She felt her posture droop under the hot water, but she couldn’t help it.

She half expected him to keep his suit on in the shower with her. He had a difficult time stripping all the way to the skin, apparently. Her fingers itched to take him out of his clothes herself, but it was almost as satisfying when he reached up to unbutton his waistcoat. He undressed automatically, no seduction to it, his eyes on what his hands were doing. She recalled the first time he’d fucked her and how he had been when he took his clothes off then. Her curiosity nagged at her, but she didn’t have the heart to bring anything up that might bother him when their day had been so nice.

Ian finally dropped his boxers aside to step into the shower with her. There was something equally as intimate as their play together in the way he helped her clean up. Perhap moreso. Taking care of another person wasn’t something that everyone was good at - or even capable of. He did it by second nature.

All she had to do was sit there and remain reasonably awake while he washed her. His fingers scritching carefully along her scalp endangered the ‘awake’ part, but she recognized the scent of the shampoo. The idea that she would smell like him for a little while was gratifying. 

“You know, Sir, if I want to stop, I can safeword,” she pointed out, wrinkling her nose against water dripping down her face to look up at him.

“Mm. I’m aware,” he replied.

“I’m just-” Belle squinted an eye, then quickly closed both, and he turned her face up with his hand under her chin for a second to wash away the errant stream of suds that stung her. “Just saying. ’Cause you do a lot of asking.”

He brushed strands of wet hair away from her face. She opened her eyes again to find him with an expression he’d translate as being in pain, if she didn’t know better.

“I would rather ask and be certain than push you into using your safe word. Particularly when we’re getting into new territory for either of us,” he told her.

It was a _good_ thing that he was so conscientious about it, Belle reminded herself. There had been occasions when she wished her play partner was careful about consent and her state of mind. Far more than there should have been.

She tilted her head into the spray again to ask for a kiss. He didn’t disappoint, leaning down despite having to get himself under the water.

“There’s still soap in your hair. Behave yourself and let me finish rinsing it out,” Ian scolded gently, smiling down at her.

~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~ ~ ~o~

For the most part, she was in her own clothes when he took her home. Ian had given her one of his lovely, soft, black cotton undershirts, and she’d napped with him in that and nothing else. Belle barely remembered lying down, but they had curled up on his bed and she slept hard, not waking until it was nearly dark out. While he changed out of pajamas and into a fresh suit, she just put her skirt on with his undershirt, slipping her blouse and cardigan on open over it.

He drove her home and walked her up, and she giggled when he suddenly remembered aloud that they’d left behind the dildo he gave her. It still sat on a towel next to his bathroom sink, clean but forgotten.

“I remembered my flowers, though! I’ll drop by for it tomorrow,” she told him with a laugh, taking her keys from her purse. “Why don’t you come in? Don’t just drop me off.”

Before Ian answered or she had the key in the lock, she heard her neighbor’s door open. She glanced back to find him poking his head out. Not the best timing in the world.

“Thought that was your voice I heard.” August reached back into his apartment. “I got some of your mail again.”

Leaving his door standing open, he walked over, leaning a shoulder against the wall beside her before holding a couple pieces of mail out to her. He had that easy, ever-present smile as he looked between her and Ian.

“Thanks,” she said, taking and dropping the envelopes into her purse. “Um. Ian, this is August. August, Ian.”

As introductions went, it wasn’t spectacular. All she wanted was to go in and go back to doing her impression of a rag doll, though. Ideally with Ian. She didn’t feel particularly bad about it. He extended a hand first, and she noticed the beat before her neighbor took it. She turned to unlock her door as they shook and exchanged short politenesses behind her.

Ian tamped down an unreasonable annoyance toward the younger man for sidling himself into the moment. He was fairly certain he successfully schooled it away from his face. Belle was quick about getting the door open, at least, and she seemed none the happier about the interruption.

“Thanks again for my mail,” she said to August, closing the door as soon as Ian stepped inside. She dropped her purse on the end of the TV table and set her bouquet of lilacs more carefully next to it. “So, that would be the new neighbor I mentioned.”

“He’s… friendly,” Ian observed.

“He is definitely that.” Belle pressed her lips together, nodding. She stepped over, tugging at Ian’s jacket sleeve. “Stay a while?”

“I _was_ considering an offer to make dinner later.” He circled her with his arms, lacing his fingers together.

She leaned her weight into his chest. “I’d love that. If you really want to.”

Ian pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead and gave her backside a pat that made her flinch and grin. “Go change into your pajamas. I’ll make you some tea. You do have tea?”

“Top cupboard to the right of the stove,” she answered, only taking a step back when he opened his arms. 

She disappeared into her bedroom, and he took his suit jacket off, laying it on the table in place of her flowers. The lilacs, he brought along to the kitchen. Once he had her kettle on to boil, he engaged in a bit of a search for a vase, eventually finding the same one she’d put her roses in. By the time she came padding back into the living room on sock feet, he had her flowers beside the television and her tea in a cup, complete with a good dose of honey to soothe her throat.

Belle had changed into a pair of blue and green striped pajama bottoms, he saw when he took her tea in, but she’d kept his undershirt on. He had to admit to himself that it was satisfying to see her wear a piece of his clothing. It felt like some small manner of claim she had on him in return for the marks he left on her.

“Thank you,” she said when he handed the cup of tea to her.

He missed neither the sweeter tone to her words compared to the thanks she had spoken to her neighbor, nor the space she left for him between her and the arm of the sofa. Ian took the seat beside her and she snuggled in close under his arm, sipping noisily at the edge of her tea while it was still too hot to drink properly.

“You seem to have quite the inclination toward old things,” he observed, lifting his hand to tuck a wild stray curl behind her ear. 

She looked up at him and asked softly, “Do I?”

“Restoration work, Victorians, your car. Your teacups are veritable antiques, themselves.” Ian resisted placing himself in the category, though he thought he would fit just fine.

Belle gave him a long and quiet look. She’d had a long afternoon and she might’ve still been a tad sex drunk, but she wasn’t oblivious. “The older some… thing is, the more story it has. The more interest. The more enjoyable it is to explore and learn and uncover its layers.”

With a hand on his thigh, she stretched up, this time not asking or waiting for a kiss before she brushed her lips over one side of his mouth. He let her - though she didn’t really expect him to stop her - and it was only after she repeated the gesture that he turned his face toward her for more. His kiss was unhurried but in an odd way no less intense than the devouring kisses he gave. Ian caught her lower lip between his, grazing it with his teeth, and changed his angle ever so slightly to do the same to her top lip. He pulled back, meeting her gaze with eyes that shone warm brown in the lamp light.

Her head felt too light again. She turned back to her tea, inhaling the steam from it. “You aren’t old,” she whispered across the surface before taking a cautious sip.

Belle was painfully aware how needy and clingy she behaved, wanting him to stay, wanting him to keep holding onto her. She wondered if she really could make herself stop if she tried. It was the chemicals. Endorphins, dopamine, epinephrine, oxytocin. Everything that made submitting so wonderful from a physiological standpoint. But they were _so easy_ to mistake for love. 

She closed her eyes, consciously appreciating Ian’s warmth and touch, and she let herself pretend that it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visual aids:  
> [Belle’s outfit](https://ishtarelisheba.dreamwidth.org/file/2329.png)  
> [playroom layout](https://ishtarelisheba.dreamwidth.org/file/2159.jpg)  
> [playroom image set](https://ishtarelisheba.dreamwidth.org/file/2684.jpg) (nsfw)


End file.
